Things You Don't Forget
by purplepagoda
Summary: When Jane is asked why she became a cop, she clams up. The reason, isn't as simple as you might think. Will she tell her best friend the truth, or will she lie? Given the chance to confess to the events of her past, will she?
1. Reason For Being A Cop

They're sitting at the dirty robber, snacking on peanuts, sipping on their drinks, and waiting on their food to arrive. Maura looks at Jane, and innocently asks, "What made you become a cop?"

Jane swallows the beer in her mouth, and drops the peanut shell that is between her fingers. She looks up with Maura, as if she's been caught off guard. After a few moments, and careful consideration, she answers.

"Maura, you shouldn't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to."

"Why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Maura, please, just don't ask me that."

Maura furrows her brow, "Why, not? You know why I am a medical examiner..."

Jane cuts her off, "Because you wanted to be a doctor, but your social skills with live people, were lacking."

"That's not very nice."

"It's true."

"But you don't have to put it like that," Maura argues, "There is more to it, than that."

"I know."

"So, why don't you want to tell me, what made you want to be a cop?"

"Because I would have to lie," Jane responds.

"You would lie to me?"

"I don't want to have to kill you."

"Are you insinuating that if you told me the truth, that you would have to kill me?" Maura raises an eyebrow.

"That is what I am saying."

"Come on, I am sure that it's not that big of a deal," Maura argues.

"Yes it is," Jane disagrees, taking another sip of beer.

"Just tell me."

"I could tell you the story, that I tell everyone else," Jane volunteers.

"But?"

"It would be a lie."

"You lie to everyone, about why you became a cop?"

"Not everyone," Jane shakes her head.

"So some people know?"

"One person knows," Jane admits.

"One? Just one? It has got to be more than one."

"It was two," Jane reveals.

"What happened to the second? Did you kill them?"

"No, my grandmother died, of natural causes."

"Oh," Maura sighs, "Sorry, I didn't know."

"It's ok."

"So who knows?"

"My mother."

"Good," Maura smiles.

"Good? She won't tell you."

"Of course she will. I'm her favorite. She can't keep a secret, and if I ask her to tell me, she won't be able to lie," Maura explains.

"You're right, she's not very good at keeping secrets. Most of the time, she can't keep anything to herself. To my knowledge, she's never told anyone."

"I am sure that she has," Maura furrows her brow, in disbelief.

"Maybe my father, but I don't think that even he knows."

"Why not?"

"My mother would do anything for her children. It is a secret that I asked her to keep, and I know that she will."

"How do you know?"

"She promised to take it to her grave."

"So?"

"She will," Jane answers.

"I don't understand why it has to be such a big secret. Did you get mugged, or something?"

"No I wasn't mugged."

"Or something?"

"Maura! I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

Jane breaks eye contact, and returns to her drink. She stares blankly, at the bottle label.

"Was it something traumatic?" Maura continues to query.

"Maura, just leave it alone."

"Jane," she lowers her voice, "I am your best friend, you can tell me anything."

Jane looks at her half empty bottle of beer, "There would have to be a whole hell of a lot more alcohol involved, for me to ever tell you."

"You have to be drunk to tell you?"

"I would have to be drunk, before I'd let it slip."

"So, let's..."

Jane cuts her off, "And, I've never been that drunk, in my entire life."

"Tell me, why is it ok for you to keep secrets, but not for me to?" Maura poses the question.

"Revealing your secrets, doesn't hurt anybody."

"That isn't true. What about Hope?"

"It's not the same."

"Explain it to me," Maura implores.

"Maybe, one day, on my death bed, I will confess to you, the event in my life, that took place, that made me decide to be a cop."

"What if you outlive me?"

"Then you will never know."

"Jane, whatever it is, it can't be that big of a deal."

"Maura, you have no idea."

That night, Jane lies in her bed, wide awake. She stares at the ceiling, above her bed. She breathes in, and out, slowly. The door to her room is slightly cracked. She listens to the sound of the second hand of the clock on her living room wall, ticking. She fights her sleep, knowing that it only brings nightmares. Nightmares, never dreams, not anymore.

She used to have dreams, every now, and then. Years ago, before she lost all hope. Now, any dream, came in the form of a nightmare. Eventually she sound of the ticking clock lulls her to sleep, but not a peaceful one.

_She's a teenager, sitting on the porch, of her grandmother's home. She rocks back, and forth, on the porch swing, numbly. She looks up, at the scene around her. There are cops, all over the porch, talking to her grandmother, who is still in a bathrobe. It's the middle of the night. The only light, is from police cruiser's, because the street lamps nearby are all burnt out. Jane fixates, on the police tape, across the front door. _


	2. Half Of The Truth

She wakes up, gasping for breath, knowing this nightmare, all too well. It wasn't just a dream, once upon a time, it had been reality. She wakes up, in a cold sweat. She looks at the alarm clock, next to her, on the bedside stand. The red numbers tell her that it's too early to be awake.

She rolls on her side, to stare out the window, fully aware, that she's not going back to sleep. She stares at the sliver of light, coming through the curtain. She's startled, when she hears someone knocking on the door. She climbs out of the bed, and heads towards the knocking. She looks out the peephole, and unlocks the door. She flips the light on, and frowns.

"What are you doing here? It's three o'clock in the morning."

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't sleep."

"Did you try chamomile tea?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course Maura, it's three o'clock in the morning, why would I mind you coming in, to visit?"

"Were you asleep?" Maura raises an eyebrow, as she closes the door behind her.

"No, but I'm not sure why you're here."

"I kept thinking about what you said."

"And?"

"I am really offended. I can't believe that you don't trust me enough to keep your secret."

"Maura, you can't lie."

"I could," she argues.

"I can't tell you."

"Can't, or won't?"

"You wouldn't understand," Jane reveals.

"You don't know that."

"It would change things."

"Clearly, it changed your life."

"Maybe, a little bit, too much."

"You became a cop. You're a great detective. Some, good came of it."

"Not enough."

"You have helped a lot of people."

"It doesn't matter."

"You're shutting down."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're putting up your firewalls."

"Maura, I'm a person, not a computer."

"When you feel threatened, you put up walls, so that no one can get in," Maura tells her, "That is what a firewall does."

"Maybe I do, but this time, I just can't tell you."

"Nothing is that bad."

"You can't say that, because you don't know."

"Then tell me."

"Ok," Jane nods, hoping to get her to go away, and drop the whole thing.

"You're going to tell me?"

Jane nods, "I lost someone close to me."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," Jane nods.

"Oh. Why couldn't you tell me that?"

"Because you ask too many questions."

"You lost someone close to you, that's it?"

"See."

"I need a little more than that," Maura admits.

"Someone close to me, was taken from me, too soon."

"So, someone close to you, died prematurely?"

Jane clenches her jaw, trying to maintain her composure. Maura notices the far away look in her eyes. She picks up, on the fact, that Jane is near tears. Jane takes a deep breath in, as if to will the tears away. "Yes."

"They were murdered? That's why you're a homicide detective?" Maura guesses.

"We never found out, for sure," Jane admits.

"Oh. I'm so, sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I should go home. I am sure that you would like to get back to sleep."

"I would."

"You weren't sleeping, though, were you?"

"No."

"Nightmares, again?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"About Hoyt?"

"Not all of my nightmares are about him."

"Do you ever have dreams, that aren't nightmares?"

"No," Jane shakes her head.

"So..."

Jane cuts her off, "I was dreaming about something else."

"You want me to leave?"

"You don't have to leave, but I'm not talking about this, anymore."

"Ok. I'll go."

"It's late..."

"I am ok. I drove here, in the middle of the night, and I can drive home."

"You can stay on the couch."

"Your couch is as comfortable as lying on a bag of potatoes."

"If you're going to be that way, then you can go home."

"Fine, I will."

Maura leaves, and heads home. Hours later, she wakes up, and gets ready for work. She finds Angela, in the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Angela pours a cup for Maura, too.

"Did you sleep well?"

"No," Maura admits.

"Why not?"

"Something Jane said."

"Something Jane said, kept you up? It must have been a doozy."

"I just asked her to tell me about what made her decide to be a cop."

"Oh?" Angela plays coy.


	3. Shut Me Out

"What did she say?" Angela sips her coffee.

"She told me."

"The same story that she tells everyone? The about the cop that saved her life?"

"No, she told me the truth."

"She did?" Angela says in surprise.

"Yeah."

"She told you, about Michael?"

"She just said that she lost someone close to her."

"Oh, I've said too much, then."

"No you haven't. Tell me more."

"I can't. She would murder me."

"No, she wouldn't. Jane worships the ground that you walk on."

"She swore me to secrecy. I promised to take this to my grave. I would never betray her trust, like that."

"You tell embarrassing things about her, all of the time."

"This isn't embarrassing."

"Come on, Angela. Just tell me. Who was Michael?"

"I can't. And, don't tell her that I said anything."

"You didn't. I don't know who Michael is."

"But if you mention that name to her, she'll know that it had to come from me. No one else knows. She will automatically assume, that I told you, everything, and she'll hate me."

"No she won't."

"She will."

"It's not healthy to keep secrets."

"I agree, but some secrets, are better off, buried."

"What if this one isn't?"

"Maura, I assure you, it is. There is nothing you can do, or say to fix it, so just leave it alone."

"Ok," Maura agrees.

That night, Jane, and Maura end up at the Dirty Robber, again, for dinner. Jane is mid-sip, when Maura's curiosity, can be quieted no longer.

"Tell me."

"Tell you what? I already told you."

"About him."

"Who?"

"Michael."

Jane nearly drops the bottle, on the table. She swallows hard, and barely catches the bottle, as it slips from her fingers, and falls towards the table. She grabs it just in time, and places it on the table.

She gives Maura, a look that she has never seen before. Maura looks at Jane. Jane is frozen, and her eyes have gone cold. Maura can't decide whether Jane is staring at her, or looking through her.

"What did you just say?"

Maura breaks eye contact, "The wrong thing, apparently."

"You asked my mother? Unbelievable. I can't believe that she would tell you."

"She didn't."

"Then how did you know?" Jane answers.

Maura looks up, "I told her that you told me. She asked if you told me the story about the cop who saved your life. I explained that you told me the truth. She was surprised."

"So, she told you, everything?"

"No," Maura shakes her head, "Her response was, 'She told you about Michael?' When I told her no, she clammed up. She was afraid that she had said too much."

"She did."

"No she didn't. I don't know who he is."

"And, I'm not going to tell you, so don't ask."

"She said you would kill her, if she told me."

"Probably."

"And that she would take the secret to her grave."

"I hope that she does."

"Jane, whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"No, you're right, it's worse."

"Just tell me," Maura begs.

"Maura, I swear, if you ask me, one more time, I will not hesitate to pull my gun out, in public, and shoot you, right here."

"Wouldn't you have to tell your secret, then?"

Jane pulls money out of her pocket, and tosses it on the table. She slides out of the booth.

"Where are you going?"

Jane runs out of the bar, without answering. She heads straight home. She tries to wash her troubles down the drain, with a warm shower.

When she gets out, and puts on pajamas, she just feels worse. Instead of going straight to bed, she goes into her closet. She crawls into the back of the closet, with the light off. She pushes aside some clothes, and reaches for the wall. She finds what she's looking for, in the form of an uneven patch of wall. She pushes it aside. Her fingers rest on the keypad, of a safe.

She hits the familiar numbers, ones that no one else would know. She jiggles the handle, and pulls the door open. She reaches inside, and pulls out a box. Before she can open the box, her phone starts to ring. Against her better judgment, she gets out of the closet, sans box.

She finds her phone, on the counter, in the kitchen. She doesn't look at the caller id, she just picks up the phone.

"Rizzoli," she answers, in a pissed tone.

"Jane, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Maura, please, just let it go."

"I can't."

"Maura, you have to. I can't do this. Just leave it alone. Leave me alone, please."

"I'm at the door."

"Go home," Jane responds.

"Please let me in."

"Why?"

"Jane, I'm worried about you."

"I appreciate that, but I'm not going to spill my guts, because you are concerned about me."

"Ok, then, I'll just go."

Jane hangs up the phone.


	4. Hate Me

When Jane wakes up, the next morning, she opens her eyes, and finds an intruder, standing in her bedroom. She furrows her brow.

"Breaking and entering is a crime, you know," Jane tells her.

"Your mother let me use her key," Maura reveals, holding out a cup of coffee.

"If you think that a cup of coffee is going to make things better, then, you're wrong."

Maura sits it on the bedside stand.

"Ok. I'll go. But, if you ever change your mind, I'm here, to listen."

Maura turns to leave. Jane looks at the unopened box, sitting on the bed, next to her. She swallows hard, knowing that it's time.

"Maura, wait."

Maura turns around, in the doorway, "Yeah?"

"It's not that I don't trust you. You should know that."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it, because I don't want to relive it."

"Sometimes the past hurts," Maura admits.

"Maura," she swallows hard, "It hurts, too much, to even talk about."

"Why?"

"Because, sometimes, it feels like I'm still there."

"Jane, I am sure that you have been through worse. You've been through so much, that..."

"Maura, nothing has ever compared."

"Not even with Hoyt?"

"I would rather be tortured by him, because at least, I know _that_ has to end, at some point. This never goes away."

Maura takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

"You're never going to tell me, are you?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Because once I tell you, I can't take it back."

"Ok."

"No, it's not ok," Jane argues.

"Why not?"

"Once I tell you, you'll never look at me the same, again. I don't need pity, I don't want pity."

"I would never look at you, with pity."

"You say that, now... but you have no idea."

"You can tell me."

"I am not sure that I can."

"Jane, who was Michael?"

She feels the tears starting to well up in her eyes, as a lump forms in her throat.

"Was he a friend?" Maura guesses.

"No," Jane shakes her head.

"A boyfriend?"

"No."

"Fiance?"

"No."

"Husband?"

"I've never been married."

"A cousin?"

"Nope."

"An uncle?"

"No."

"The Saint?"

"Stop guessing."

"Ok," Maura agrees.

* * *

_April, 1993, _

_It's a rainy grey, day, and Jane is stuck in the house, alone, with her mother. Her dad, and brothers are fixing some pipes. Jane sits in the living room, staring at the television, trying to avoid her mother._

_"Jane, are you going to vacuum, or not?"_

_"Or not," the teenager answers._

_"Come on. If you want to do anything next weekend, you need to get your chores done."_

_"I am not going to do anything next weekend."_

_"Why have you been so gloomy lately?"_

_"I'm not."_

_"And, what happened to that nice boy that you were seeing?"_

_Jane shrugs._

_Angela continues, "What was his name, Kevin? Christopher?"_

_"Kyle! His name was, Kyle."_

_"What happened to him? He seemed like a very nice boy. He was cute, too. With those big blue eyes. I haven't heard you talk about him, in a while. Did something happen?"_

_"Ma, I don't want to talk about it.""Come on, Jane, just tell me what happened."_

_"I just didn't like him that much, ok?"_

_"That' not true. He was all you could talk about, for months. What happened?"_

_"Nothing happened."_

_"Jane, you're lying. You shouldn't lie to your mother, it's not good for your health."_

_"Just drop it, please."_

_"Why are you wearing that Metallica t-shirt, again? I thought that I put that thing away."_

_"Why do you keep asking me all these questions._

_"I'm worried about you, Janey, you haven't been yourself, lately."_

_"I'm fine. Can I go, to my room now?"_

_"We're not done talking."_

_"Yes, we are."_

_"What happened, to Kyle? He was such a nice boy."_

_"He wasn't that nice of a boy, Ma."_

_"What makes you say that? Did he do something to you?"_

_"Ma... please, just go back to the kitchen."_

_"Jane! Tell me!"_

_"I can't!"_

_"You can tell me anything."_

_"You'll hate me," she argues._

_"No I won't. Jane, there isn't anything, in the entire world, that you can't tell me. I'm your mother."_

* * *

Maura looks at her, waiting for an explanation, but Jane stops, abruptly.

"Who was Kyle? And what does he have to do, with all of this?"

"I'm getting there."


	5. Unbelievable

_April, 1993-_

_"I'm sorry," are the next words out of her mouth, as tears start to trickle down her face._

_"You're sorry? Jane, what are you talking about? Why are you sorry?"_

_"I can't tell you," she answers, now sobbing._

_"I should have listened, and I didn't."_

_"Jane, whatever it is that you did wrong, we can fix it."_

_"No, we can't fix it. There is no fixing it."_

_"Jane, I know that you feel that way, right now, but you're seventeen. You'll realize that the things that seem like a big deal, when you're seventeen, aren't really that big of a deal. Just tell me what you did. Did you put a ding in the car door?"_

_"No."_

_"Did you get a bad grade?"_

_"No."_

_"Did you get detention?"_

_"No!"_

_"Then what did you do? I am sure that it can't be that bad. Whatever it is, just tell me."_

_"I can't," Jane argues._

_"Of course you can. You can tell me anything."_

_"You'll kill me."_

_Angela uses her fingers to tip Jane's chin up. She makes sure Jane's eyes are locked on her, "Look at me, I am your mother. You can do something wrong, and no matter what, I am still going to love you. Nothing is that bad, ok?"_

_"You don't understand, Ma."_

_"Jane you're a good kid, whatever you did, I am sure that it's not as bad as it seems."_

_"No, it's worse."_

_"Just tell me."_

_"I'm pregnant!"_

_Angela doesn't say anything, she just stares at her seventeen year old daughter. She swallows hard, and furrows her brow. Suddenly she feels faint, even though she's already sitting on the arm of the recliner. _

_Jane looks at her, waiting for a reaction. With each moment of silence, she grows more, and more nervous. She looks away, not wanting to see Angela's look of disappointment._

_"Oh."_

_"Oh? That's it?"_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yes," Jane nods._

_"How did this happen?" Angela asks._

_Jane remains silent._

_"Why didn't you tell me that you were having sex?"_

_"MA!"_

_"I know that I told you to wait, but Jane, you should have come to me. This could have been prevented."_

_"I know," at this point Jane's voice is quivering._

_Angela looks at her daughter. She sees the fear in her eyes. Instead of lecturing her, she chooses a different route, realizing that a scared little girl, is looking back at her. _

_"We'll figure this out, ok?"_

_"Don't tell pop, please."_

_"Let's not worry about that right now, ok?"_

_"Ok," Jane nods._

_Angela wipes the tears from Jane's face, with the sleeve of her shirt._

_"Did you tell Kyle?"_

_"Yes," Jane nods._

_"Do his parents know?"_

_"No."_

_"What do you want to do?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Jane, you're seventeen."_

_"I know."_

_"Jane, I know that we're Catholic, and I don't..." she pauses, "What I am trying to say, is that whatever you want to do, is up to you. I won't judge you, for any decision that you make. But, I don't think that you raising a child, as a child, is a good idea."_

_"I agree."_

_"Do you want to have a baby?"_

_"It's a little bit late, not to have it," Jane comments._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Even if I don't keep it, I have to have it."_

_"You have time."_

_Jane shakes her head, "No."_

_"What do you mean no?"_

_Jane swallows hard, "I should have told you, sooner, but I was scared."_

_"It's ok. I understand. You needed a couple of weeks to get up the courage to tell me."_

_"More than a couple of weeks," she admits._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I found out, months ago."_

_"Months? How many months, Jane?"_

_"About... six."_

_"Six?! You're joking, right?"_

_"No, ma'am."_

_"Jane, why, how..."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Jane I love you, but I am not going to let you do this."_

_"Do what?"_

_"Throw your life away. You have such a bright, promising future."_

_"I never said that I wanted to do this. I don't want a baby. I..."_

_"Ok then, it's settled."_

_"But, what am I going to do?"_

_"We'll just wait until school is out, that's another four weeks."_

_"Then, what?'_

_"I'm going to call your grandmother."_

_"No, you can't tell her."_

_"I have to. Jane, she'll know what to do."_

Maura looks at her, and starts laughing hysterically. Jane furrows her brow.

"Jane, you don't have to humor me. If you don't want to tell me, then don't tell me. You don't have to make up a story, on my account."


	6. Lost

Jane looks at Maura, solemnly. She doesn't laugh, or crack a smile. She takes a deep breath.

"I wish that I were making this up."

"You're not?" Maura swallows hard.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. Please finish."

"No," Jane shakes her head.

"Jane, I really am sorry. I just... I guess it..."

"It's hard to believe? Yeah, I know."

"Continue, please," Maura begs.

Jane sighs, "So, when school got out, for the summer, I went to stay with my grandmother, in Florida. My mother decided that it was best, if no one knew. She thought I could have the baby, and come back in time for school."

"She wanted you to pretend that nothing happened?"

"No. She wanted me to have a future, with choices, and promise."

"So what happened?"

_July 31st 1993,_

_Jane's grandmother, sits next to her. She squeezes Jane's hand. Jane doesn't squeeze back. Her hair is secured in a ponytail, and she's covered in sweat. She looks as if she's been hit by a truck. _

_The nurse places a pink, screaming baby on Jane's chest. Jane stares at the baby, in silence. She watches, as the baby covered in goo, wails, and cries. _

_"Please don't cry," she begs._

_The baby stops crying, and looks up at her. Jane's grandmother squeezes her hand. She smiles, and kisses Jane's forehead._

_"You did good," she whispers._

_Soon the nurse bundles the baby up, and takes it away. The medical personnel trickles out of the room. Jane finds herself in the quiet room, with her grandmother._

_"Jane, are you ok?"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"You haven't said much, what's going on, in that brain of yours?"_

_"I want my mother," Jane answers._

_"Sweetie, she's hours away. You can go home, and see her, in a few days."_

_"I can't."_

_"Of course you can. You'll be out of here, in no time. They'll probably release him to his family, tomorrow. You can go home, and.."_

_Jane furrows her brow, "No."_

_"No? You don't want to go home."_

_"I want to see him, again."_

_"Ok," she nods._

_About an hour later, the nurse returns the sleeping baby to Jane's room. Her grandmother lifts the sleeping baby out of the basinet, and places it in Jane's arms. Jane studies the baby._

_"Hi, little man," she greets._

_"Eight pounds three ounces, isn't little."_

_Jane stares at the swollen face, of the newborn boy. He rests peacefully. Most of the goo has been wiped off of him, and there is a cap on his head. He has chubby cheeks, and long fingers. Jane looks at her grandmother._

_"I don't want to do this."_

_"That is why you're not keeping him."_

_"No. I don't want to do that."_

_"What?"_

_"I want to keep him," she clarifies._

_"Jane..."_

_"I want to keep him."_

_"I'll talk to your mother."_

_"No."_

_August 2nd, 1993,_

_Jane sits on the edge, of the bed, in her grandmother's spare room. It's a small room, with a bookshelf, a twin bed, a bedside stand, and a lamp. She holds the baby, as she sits on the side of the bed. Her grandmother appears in the doorway, with a big smile on her face. She carries the bassinet into the room._

_"I found your mother's bassinet, in the garage."_

_"You brought it with you, to Florida?"_

_"Some things, just have too many memories, to let go of."_

_"Did you talk to ma, yet?"_

_"She'll be in tomorrow."_

_"I don't know what I'm doing."_

_"That's ok. I'll help you."_

_"Do you think that I'm doing the right thing?"_

_"I'm not the one you should be asking."_

_Jane stares at the sleeping little boy in her arms. _

_"What do you think, Michael, am I doing the right thing?"_

Maura stares at her best friend, in disbelief. She takes a moment, to let things sink in. Finally she starts to ask questions.

"So, you had a baby, at seventeen?"

Jane simply nods.

"And you never told me?"

"I never told anyone, other than my mother, and my grandmother."

"That's it?'

"My father doesn't even know."

"Your brothers?"

"No," Jane shakes her head.

"You changed your mind?"

"No."

"Your mother changed it for you," she guesses.

"No my mother didn't change my mind. If she had said no, I would have just stayed in Florida."

"Then what would you have been?"

"It's hard to tell."

"What happened?"

"I told you, I lost him."

"Like, lost custody of him? The father wanted him?"

"The father was a nineteen year old quarterback, so, no."

"Jane?"

Jane takes the lid, off the box, lying on the bed. She pulls out a blue receiving blanket. Underneath is a picture. She hands it to Maura, and says nothing. Maura studies the picture, of a newborn baby. She turns it over, and looks at the back. _Michael _is written, in Jane's handwriting.


	7. Gone

_August 3rd, 1993- 3AM_

_The breeze, blowing in, through the window wakes her. She rolls out of bed, and closes the window. As she latches the window, it occurs to her, that she didn't leave it open. She flips on the lamp. Her eyes take a moment to adjust. She looks at the clock. She is surprised that there is no crying. She walks around the end of the bed, to the basinet, in the corner of the room. It's empty._

_For a moment, she panics, but then she decides that her grandmother has probably taken the baby. She leaves the room and tiptoes down the hallway. She stops in her grandmother's room. She wait in the doorway, of the dark room. _

_"Gram," she whispers._

_"What Jane?"_

_"Can I have him back, now?"_

_"What?"_

_"Michael, you can give him to me, I'm up now."_

_She turns on the lamp. "Jane, that's not funny. I don't have him."_

_All color drains from Jane's face. _

_"Jane, what's wrong?"_

_"What do you mean, you don't have him?"_

_"He's asleep."_

_"No."_

_"Then go get him."_

_"Gram!" she tears out of the room, down the hall, with her grandmother close behind her. _

_They reach the spare bedroom, and stare at the empty bassinet, in horror. Jane looks at her grandmother._

_"Maybe your mother came in on an earlier flight," she suggests._

_"No. I talked to her, right before I went to bed. She isn't coming until the morning."_

_"He didn't just disappear."_

_"The window was open."_

_"You left the window open?"_

_"No. I woke up, because the air was blowing in. I didn't open the window."_

_The police arrive in a matter of minutes. She watches, from the doorway, of the bedroom, as they dust the window sill for prints. She feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns, and looks at the detective, solemnly._

_"Why don't you come with me?"_

_Jane simply nods, and follows the detective to the kitchen table. Jane takes a seat, silently. The detective takes a seat, across from her._

_"Do you know anyone, who would want to take your baby?"_

_"No. I don't even live here. I'm from Boston."_

_"Was there anyone suspicious, at the hospital?"_

_"No."_

_"Ok, if you think of anything else, let me know," the detective holds out a business card._

_"You're going to find him, aren't you?"_

_The detective says nothing. _

_"You're going to find him, right?" Jane asks._

_"We are going to do everything that we can, to find him."_

_"But?"_

_"We have a pretty small police department. We will be getting the FBI involved."_

_"And?"_

_"I have to be honest with you, we don't always find them."_

_Jane pushes her chair out, and storms out of the room. She ducks under the crime scene tape, on the front door, and maneuvers past the officers standing outside. She reaches the porch swing. She lowers herself onto it. She can't fight the tears, anymore._

_Hours later, she's curled up, half asleep, on the porch swing, when her mother arrives. Angela gets out of the taxi, and carries her suitcase up the sidewalk. She pushes the gate open, and makes her way up the stairs. She puts the suitcase down, noticing Jane. She tiptoes to the porch swing. She lifts Jane's feet, and slides underneath._

_"Jane, what are you doing out here?"_

_"I can't go in there."_

_"Why not?"_

_Jane points at the door. It is then, that Angela notices the crime scene tape on the door._

_"What happened? Where is the baby?'_

_"I don't know."_

_"You don't know what happened?"_

_"I don't know where he is."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Grandma didn't want to call you, in the middle of the night?"_

_Angela shakes her head, "Jane, what's going on?"_

_"The baby is gone."_

_"He died?"_

_"No."_

_"What happened?"_

_"Someone took him."_

_"What do you mean, someone took him?"_

_"I woke up, in the middle of the night, because the wind was blowing. I closed the window, and I realized that I hadn't opened it. Michael wasn't in his basinet. I thought gram had him, but she didn't. Someone took him."_

_"Oh."_

_"What if they don't find him?"_

_"I am sure that they will."_

_"But, what if they don't?"_

_"Maybe it's for the best," the words slip out of Angela's mouth, before she can stop them._

_Jane jumps off the swing, and bolts off the porch. She walks down the sidewalk, towards the boat ramp, at the end of the block._

_"Where are you going?"_

* * *

Maura stares at her, silently. She doesn't say a word. Jane swallows hard.

"Now you know why I didn't want to tell you the truth."

"Jane I am so sorry."

"Don't be."

"Did they ever find him?"

Jane doesn't answer, she just looks away.

"Did they ever find him?" Maura repeats.

"They tried," she admits.

"What do you mean?"


	8. I Would Rather Die

_August 4th, 1993-_

_She receives the call, around midnight. Her mother drives her to the hospital. A detective meets her in the lobby._

_"What's going on? You didn't say much, on the phone," Angela questions._

_The detective looks at the distraught teenager, and then to the ground, "A baby was dropped off here, early this morning."_

_"So you found him?" Jane hopes._

_"I don't know how to tell you this, but the baby went into respiratory distress, and he passed away."_

_"What?!" Jane looks at him, in disbelief._

_"We called, because we were hoping you could identify the body."_

_"No," Angela shakes her head, "She's seventeen years old. Don't you think that she's been through enough? You can't ask her to identify the body."_

_"It's ok," Jane tells him._

_"Why don't you come with me?" _

_She follows him to the elevator. She turns, at the doors. She looks at her mother._

_"I don't want you to come," she insists._

_Angela steps off the elevator. The doors close, and it takes Jane, and the detective, to the basement of the hospital. The doors open, and he leads her into the morgue. They stop, outside of the autopsy room._

_He turns to her, "If you can't handle this, it's alright. We can use DNA samples to confirm. You don't have to go in there. I know how hard this is."_

_"Really? Have you ever had to identify your child, in the morgue?"_

_"No."_

_"Then you have no idea."_

_"Jane..."_

_She pushes past him, into the room. A medical examiner, stands at a metal table. There is a sheet, over a tiny baby. The detective comes into the room. Jane looks at the medical examiner._

_"Are you sure that you don't want your mother, to come down here, with you?" the detective asks._

_"No. Just let me see him," Jane insists._

_The M.E. pulls back the sheet. Jane stares at the face, of the infant. She exhales. The detective watches her, gauging her reaction._

_"It's not him," Jane answers._

_"We believe that it is."_

_"It's not. I know that I am a young, and you don't think that I am very reliable. I did just have a baby, and I'm not even eighteen, but I am telling you, that is not my baby. You can use whatever DNA that you need, but it's not him."_

* * *

_August 18th, 1993-_

_Angela, and Jane have returned to Boston, despite Jane's argument. Jane is outside, running, when the phone rings. Angela answers it. After a brief conversation, she leaves the kitchen, and goes outside. She finds Jane sitting under the basketball hoop._

_"I got a call, from Detective Reiser."_

_"It's about time."_

_"The DNA finally came back. That baby wasn't Michael."_

_"I know. What else did he say?"_

_"They have no leads."_

_"Because they were sure that I didn't know what I was talking about. It took two weeks for the DNA results to come back. Michael could be anywhere."_

_"Jane, I'm sorry."_

_"Sorry isn't good enough."_

_"Sometimes things work out differently than we had planned."_

_"Don't you dare say, better."_

_"Jane, you weren't ready for this."_

_"I am glad that you think so highly of me."_

_"You're too young, that's all I meant."_

_"Ma, did you have something to do with it?"_

_"No."_

_"Because you didn't want me to do this, in the first place."_

_"But, I would never put you through this."_

* * *

Maura looks to Jane, waiting for more. Jane takes a deep breath.

"So that's why you became a cop? You wanted to find him?"

"But, I never could. There was no evidence, and the police work was shoddy. There were no fingerprints, and they didn't have all of the resources we have today."

"You could have the case reopened."

"What good would that do?"

"Maybe you could find new evidence"

"Nineteen years later?"

"It has happened."

"Maura, there just isn't enough evidence. There were no fingerprints, and they didn't check for DNA. They didn't find any hair, or fibers. They never even came up with any suspects."

"Jane there has to be something..."

"Maura, you don't know how many hours I spent, trying to find him, and never could."

"Jane..."

"You can't fix it."

"You should have told me."

"Why?" she raises an eyebrow, and points her finger, "So that you could look at me, like that?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. Feeling sorry, doesn't make anything better."

"You've never told anyone else?"

"No," she shakes her head, "Why would I? I have spent my entire adult life, trying to forget."

"Has it worked?"

"No. It never does. No matter how hard I try, it still feels like it was just yesterday."

"That is because traumatic events..."

Jane cuts her off, "Get a replay loop in our brains. I would rather die, than have to relive that day, but I can't run from it..."

"What do you mean?"

"It's what I dream about, ninety percent of the time. That's why I rarely sleep."

"Have you ever talked to anyone, about it?"

"No, I told you I haven't."

"I meant, like a professional."

"No."


	9. Things You Can't Take Back

She stops for coffee, on her way to work. Maura is the first person that she sees when she arrives. She carries the coffee into Maura's office.

"Thanks, what's the occasion?"

"No three am wake up call, from the answering service this morning," Jane answers.

"That was pretty nice."

"Why do murders always have to happen at three in the morning."

"They don't," Maura argues.

"But statistically..."

"I don't think that there is any research, on that."

"Maybe not, but that is when they get reported."

"It seems that way," Maura agrees, "How did you sleep?"

"Ok."

"Good."

"Do you know what the worst part is?"

"All of it," Maura answers.

"He would be nineteen now. About the same age, as the kid at the coffee place this morning. It isn't as bad anymore, but the first few years, every kid I saw, I wondered could that be him, is that what he looks like."

"What would you do, if you found him?"

"I don't know," she admits.

Their phones start ringing, and buzzing. They end up with a dead body, before nine A.M. rolls around.

It's late, that night, when Jane pokes her head, in Maura's office.

"I'm heading out."

"Are you going to stop for drinks?"

"Yeah, are you coming?"

Maura looks at her computer screen. She turns the monitor off, and grabs her purse.

"Yeah."

When Maura gets home, she finds Angela asleep on her couch, with the TV still on. She flips the TV off, and gently nudges Angela.

"It's late, you should go to bed," Maura tells her.

Angela looks at her watch, "It's ten thirty. Maura, I'm not eighty."

"You're usually in bed by now."

Angela sits up. She studies Maura.

"What's on your mind?" Angela pats the seat next to her.

Maura sits down, "Jane told me."

"Told you what?"

"The story."

"What story?"

"About Michael."

"That's not going to work. I am not going to tell you."

"It's not a ploy. She told me. I assumed that Michael was a close friend, or a boyfriend."

"What did she say?"

"He was her son," Maura answers.

"She told you?"

Maura nods, "At first I didn't believe her."

"At first, neither did I. She was the good child. She has always been very direct with what she's thinking, but she was my good kid. She got into trouble, occasionally. She never even broke curfew."

"That you know of."

"She didn't. She didn't have a curfew."

"She didn't have a curfew? You're kidding, right?"

"I trusted her. She was always home before midnight, ten on a school night."

"Really?"

"I never waited up on her, I knew I didn't have to. When she told me..."

"You didn't know what to say."

"I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that she had gotten pregnant, without me even knowing she had ever kissed a boy."

"Why didn't you tell Frank?"

"She wasn't going to keep the baby."

"You had to be angry with her."

"I wasn't angry with her, I was angry for her. I wanted her to go to college. I wanted her to have all of the opportunities that I didn't. I knew that she was never going to be happy, as a stay at home mom. She's kind, and nurturing, but she's a career woman. I just wanted her to be successful."

"Having a baby..."

"I didn't want her to have to give up her childhood, and her dreams, for a baby, that she didn't plan for. A baby, that she didn't want. She was seventeen years old. She was so scared. I was scared for her."

"She changed her mind, why?"

Angela shrugs, "I guess, when she saw him, all of the things that she wanted, didn't matter anymore. She just wanted him. She was afraid to even call, and tell me that she had him."

_July 31st 1993-_

_Angela is standing in the kitchen, when the phone rings. She rushes to the phone, knowing that it will be for her. She turns the pot she has on the stove on low. She pulls the corded phone, hanging on the wall, to her ear._

_"Hello?"_

_"Ma?"_

_"Janey? I was getting worried, it's almost five o'clock, and I hadn't heard from you. Are you ok?"_

_"Yeah," she responds, in a shaky voice._

_"Are you ok?"_

_"Did gram talk to you?"_

_"No I haven't talked to her since last night, what's going on?"_

_"I'm at the hospital."_

_"Oh."_

_"It's a boy."_

_"He's there, already?"_

_"He's perfect."_

_"So, you can come home, soon?"_

_"Ma, I don't know about that."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I'm keeping him."_

_"What?"_

_Jane looks at the baby in her arms, "His name is Michael, and I'm keeping him."_

_"You can't do that. It will..."_

_"Ruin my life? Oh well. If you don't want me to come home, I won't. I'll just stay here. Gram said that it was ok."_


	10. Almost

"You didn't want her to keep him?"

"No, but I knew that there was no changing her mind."

"Did she ever..."

"Accuse me of having something to do with him disappearing? Yes. I would never do that to her. No matter how much I disagreed with her choice."

"So, that's why she cringes every time you mention grandchildren."

"When I say it, I don't even think about him, until after, and then I feel so guilty, because I know that it's the first thing she thinks of."

"They never had any leads?"

"They thought that they found him, a couple of times, but they never did."

"A couple of times? She told me about having to go to the morgue."

"She doesn't know, about the other times."

"What do you mean?"

"She had moved out by then. I decided not to tell her, unless they knew for sure. I didn't want to get her hopes up. Or make her worst fear a reality. About a month after she came home, they called again, when she was at school. They told me they had found the body of an infant, in the water near my mother's house."

"Was it him?"

"They used DNA to determine that it wasn't."

"Oh."

_July 31st 1997-_

_She races to the ringing phone. She pulls it to her ear, out of breath._

_"Hello?"_

_"Is this the Rizzoli residence?"_

_"Yes."_

_"This is Detective Reiser."_

_"Hello."_

_"I am calling, because I know that today would have been Michael's fourth birthday. I go over my case files every now and then, and I remembered today would have been his birthday. I found a possible lead."_

_"Oh?"_

_"I just learned that shortly after Michael's disappearance, a baby showed up on the doorstep of a Miami hospital. He would have been about a month old, at the time. No one claimed him, and he was put into the care of the state. I got in contact with his adoptive mother, and I was able to get a DNA sample. Our lab is going to run it. I just wanted to let you know."_

_"Ok, thank you."_

_"I'll let you know, what we find out."_

"What happened?"

"It wasn't him."

"What do you think happened to him?"

Angela shrugs."

"Who do you think took him?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think that he's still alive?"

"If they had wanted to kill him, they wouldn't have taken him. He was a newborn, they could have suffocated him, and no one ever would have heard them. Whoever took him wanted a child. It was probably a psychopath, so I don't know if he's still alive, or not."

"In your heart?"

"Since when do you go with gut feelings? Or what your heart says?"

"I don't, but you do?"

"I hope so."

"I mean statistically, after nineteen years the chances of..."

"Maura, I pray that he's out there, and that he's safe, and healthy, but even I know, that he's probably never going to know the truth. He's never going to be returned to his mother. It kills me, you know."

"That you don't get to know him."

"When your child hurts, you would do anything, to make it go away. I can't do anything, to make Jane's pain go away. I can't bring him back. I can't find him. I can't fix the fact, that she didn't get to know him. There are just some things that you can't fix. There are too many things, that can't be fixed."

"I know."

"There are very few things in my life, that I regret. All of the ones I do, have to do with Michael."

"What do you mean?"

"I told her not to keep him. I told her that maybe it was better, that what happened, happened. I didn't protect her, from getting her heart broken. I didn't keep her from winding up pregnant, at seventeen. Everyday, I think about him, and I think about all the ways I failed her, as a mother."

"You didn't fail her."

"I did. You don't understand."

"Maybe not," Maura admits.

"Jane wasn't always the way that she is now. She was tough from the day that she was born, but... it changed her."

"How?"

"She wasn't always so cold, and untrusting. She didn't always push everyone away. She used to laugh, and smile, and let people in. She was a happy child. When I look at her now, even if she's smiling, I can still see the pain in her eyes. All of it is my fault. I made her keep the pregnancy a secret. When the baby went missing, I begged her not to tell. I made her keep the secret, and I never should have. Now, she bottles everything up. She doesn't talk to me about it. I should have gotten her help. I was just so selfish. I was ashamed. What kind of parent lets their daughter have a baby, at seventeen?"

"You didn't let her. She chose that."

"I was too concerned with how things might be perceived. I should have seen how much she was hurting, and that she needed someone to talk to. She shut down, after Michael disappeared. I lost her, that day. The happy girl that I knew, is gone, forever. From that day on, she was an adult. She did everything on her own."

"She wasn't the only one that lost a child, that day."

Angela purses her lips, and shakes her head, but the tears come, anyway, "No," she admits.

"I wish that there was something that I could do."

"But, there's not. There isn't anything anyone can do."


	11. Shut It Down

She blinks, at the computer screen, unable to believe what she's seeing. She double checks her results. The sound of someone clearing their throat brings her back to reality. She looks up from her computer, to find Frost standing in the doorway, of autopsy.

"Did you figure out what the substance under the victim's fingernails was?"

"Chalk."

"Chalk? That's not a very scientific answer. Like sidewalk chalk, or..."

"Just plain white chalk."

"What's got your panties in a bunch?" he questions.

She scribbles something down, and holds the scrap of paper out to him, "Will you run this for me, please?"

"Sure," he nods, taking the paper from her.

"Send the info to my email, and don't tell Jane."

"Ok," he agrees.

"Don't tell Jane," she repeats.

"I heard you the first time."

"It's very important."

"Ok," he nods, in understanding.

Maura watches Jane, as she watches TV, from her couch. Angela sits next to her. Angela sees Maura watching them, out of the corner of her eye.

"You know, it's getting late, I think I'll go to bed," Angela tells Jane.

Jane furrows her brow, and looks at her watch, "Ma, it's eight thirty."

"I know, but I have to get up extra early tomorrow."

"Whatever," Jane rolls her eyes, as Angela vacates the couch. Angela leaves the room, and heads out the door, to the guesthouse.

Maura takes a seat next to Jane.

"So now your suddenly a fan of baseball?" Jane questions.

"Your mother doesn't like baseball either, she watches it, because she likes you," Maura tells her.

"Wrong," Jane turns to her.

"Wrong?"

"I will have you know that my mother is a die hard baseball fan. In fact, I'll have you know that my mother is the one who took me to my first baseball game, not my father."

"What?"

"My dad was supposed to take me, and my brothers, but my dad had to work. Frankie, and Tommy were really too young to enjoy the game. My mother traded the five kind of terrible seats, for two good ones. She left my brothers with my aunt."

"How old were you?"

"Six."

"I am sorry I doubted your mother's love for baseball."

"Listen, about what..."

"I would never tell anyone," Maura tells her.

"Good."

"Did you ever consider..."

"I am not going to therapy. I'm fine."

"I disagree. I think that it's something that you should learn to talk about."

"Why? I don't want to reopen that can of worms."

"Jane, you never let that wound heal."

"Scars hurt, but they're meant to remind us where we've been, so that we never end up there, again."

"It's why you don't believe in marriage, or happily ever after. You don't believe that a marriage can be happy, without children. And even if you wanted another child, you would never have one, because it might break your heart, again, and that's more than you can bear."

"Maura, I don't want to talk about this."

"You don't want to talk about it now?"

"I don't want to talk about it, ever."

Maura looks at her friend, but says nothing more. Jane never liked talking about her feelings, or opening up. Maura always knew, why she, herself didn't like to share, but Jane, that was a mystery. Now, it all made sense. She didn't want to talk about it, because she couldn't. Clearly, it wasn't something she had ever dealt with. Instead of dealing with it, she had just buried it, deep down inside, and hoped that it would go away.

Instead, it came out, as a cold, angry silence, when she would shut down. Jane ignores Maura's glance. She focuses on the TV. Maura says nothing, as she digests the fact, that her best friend, shut off, emotionally, at seventeen. A tough age, half grown, but nowhere close, at the same time. Maura looks to the TV, not wanting to look at Jane too long. She feels if she does look, for too long, Jane might notice the look of pity in her eyes.


	12. Picture

"Did you love him?"

"Who, Michael?"

"Kyle?"

"I thought that I did, at the time, but no. Maura, I should head home, it's getting late."

"You just don't want to talk about it."

"No, I don't. I already told you that. I hate talking about it. I hate thinking about it."

"Ok."

Jane grabs her things, and heads for the door. She gets in her car, and drives home. She drives too fast, and makes it home, in no time. She takes a quick shower, and heads to bed. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she falls asleep.

* * *

_August 1st 1993-_

_She stares at the baby, sleeping on her chest. He looks like an angel, as he sleeps, she thinks to herself. _

_"He's very handsome," he grandmother remarks._

_"I know."_

_"You did a good job. He's healthy, and..."_

_"Do you really think that I can do this?" she looks to her grandmother, knowing that she can't lie._

_She smiles kindly, "Janey, you can do anything that you set your mind to."_

_"I hope so."_

_"Babies demand a lot of love, and attention, way more than they give."_

_"I know that."_

_"And, you still want to do this?"_

_"I didn't want this."_

_"I know."_

_"I didn't ask for it."_

_"I know that, too."_

_She looks at the perfect baby. Her arms hold him against her, protectively, "But I wouldn't take him back."_

_"He's precious."_

_There is a knock on the door, "Housekeeping," a woman announces._

_"Come in," Jane answers._

_The housekeeper steps into the room. She smiles, "I didn't mean to bother you, I just wanted to take out your trash. I'll just be a minute, I don't want to disturb your little guy."_

_"Go ahead," Jane agrees._

_The housekeeper quickly pulls the bag of trash. "Congratulations, by the way," she adds._

_"Thanks."_

_"Your first?" she questions as she places a fresh bag in the trash can._

_"Yes. His name is Michael," Jane answers, willing to make small talk._

_"Best of luck," she smiles, as she leaves the room._

* * *

Her sleep ends abruptly, as she wakes from the dream. She takes a deep breath, roll onto the other side, and covers her head with a pillow. She pulls her covers over her head. She huffs, in exhaustion, and irritation.

"Is it so much to ask, to have just one night, where I fall asleep, easily, don't have a nightmare, and stay asleep until the alarm clock goes off? I think not." She tosses the pillow lying next to her, off the bed.

The following morning, Angela finds Maura in the kitchen, with a cup of tea, still in her pajamas.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Something, you're always thinking about something."

"If I had a picture..."

"Jane has a high school year book," Angela answers, knowing where the conversation is going.

"I just can't picture what he would look like, no matter how hard I try."

"Who? Kyle?"

"Michael."

"In my mind he has blue eyes, and dark hair."

"Blue eyes?"

"Why not?"

"While..."

"I do not need a lesson in genetics," Angela cuts her off.

"I just don't picture him that way, I guess."

"Maybe we should stop talking about this. If Jane knew, she would kill us."

She stares at the desk, in the waiting room. She fidgets, in her chair, unable to sit still. The receptionist looks at her, and opens her mouth to speak. Jane's phone starts to ring. She sighs, in relief, and pulls the phone to her ear.

"Rizzoli. Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen," she responds, hanging up the phone. She looks at the receptionist.

"Sorry, that was work, I have to go."

"Would you like to reschedule?"

"Maybe later," Jane lies, as she runs out of the office.

She climbs in her car, and heads to her crime scene. When she arrives, she puts the car in park. She leaves the keys in the ignition, with the engine off, for a moment. She takes a deep breath, and asks herself, "And, on what planet, did you think that would be a good idea? You hate talking about your feelings."

She gets out of the car, and slams the door behind her. She flashes her badge, and ducks under the crime scene tape. She moves farther into the alley way, until she finds Barry, and Maura. She looks closely, searching for a body. All she can see is a tiny pool of blood. Not even enough to be a puddle. She sees five half, to one centimeter drops.

"Where's the body?" she questions.

"There isn't one," Frost reveals.

"We're homicide. Why are we here, if there isn't a body? Has their been a murder?" she questions.

Maura squats, next to the blood drops. Her head tilts up. She shifts focus, to Jane. She looks at her, but says nothing.

"What?"

Maura says nothing. Frost jumps in.

"Come with me," he tells her.

She nods, and follows him behind the dumpster. He points at an infant seat.

"A broken car seat? What's this got to do with our case?"

"Early this morning, a woman reported her baby missing. When the neighbors were interviewed, one said that they heard crying, out here, in the alley, around four am. After interviewing everyone, they looked out here, and this is what they found."

"So, a couple of drops of blood means that the baby is dead?"

"No," he shakes his head, "It could be the perps, but..."

"But, what?"

"It got thrown Cavanaugh's way, and he put us on it."

"We're homicide," she reminds him.


	13. Deja Vu

"I want to talk to the mother," Jane tells him.

"I already did."

"I want to talk to her, myself."

"Ok," he nods, "Three B."

She walks around the building, to the entrance. She climbs the stairs, to the third floor. She reaches three B. She takes a deep breath, and knocks on the door. She hears the deadbolt, unlock, and the door pulls open.

"I'm detective Rizzoli. I know that you've already answered a lot of questions..."

"It's ok. I just want to find her. Come in," the young woman sniffles.

Jane steps into the apartment. The young woman closes the door behind her.

"Tell me what happened," Jane insists.

"I woke up, at five, and she was gone."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen," she answers.

"It must be hard."

"My mom helps out, a lot. She's not here right now, she had to go to work."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to..."

"I'm nineteen years old. I was supposed to be a sophomore in college, this year. A lot of people don't agree with my choice. They think that I'm throwing my life away. They don't think that I'm ever going to finish school. I am. I will do whatever I have to, so that she can have a bright future," the tears start to fall, "I just want my daughter back."

"What's her name?"

"Maia."

"Maia, that's a pretty name."

The young woman reaches for a picture, sitting on the coffee table. The frame lays beside it. She offers the picture to Jane. Jane takes it from her, and studies it.

"She's beautiful. Sarah, how old is she?"

"She'll be a month old, tomorrow," Sarah answers, distraught.

"We're going to find her, I promise you that. It's worse not knowing."

"Dead, or alive?" Sarah asks.

"I'm going to bring her home to you," Jane promises.

"What, if it's too late? I..." she wipes the tears from her face.

"People usually don't take babies, to hurt them."

"I don't have any money."

"Sarah, is there anyone who sticks out, in your mind? Even if it was something you..."

"Dr. Hayden."

"Dr. Hayden? Who is that?"

"Her pediatrician. She said that I reminded her of someone."

Jane looks Sarah in the eyes. She tries to push the thought, from her mind.

"What else?"

"I don't know," she shrugs, "I just got a sense that she didn't think I could handle it."

"Thank you, for answering my questions."

"Please, just find her."

"Ok," Jane nods, heading for the door.

When they return to the precinct, Jane tells Frost what Sarah has said. He starts typing, on his keyboard.

"Emily Hayden," he reads, "She's been in practice, here, since September, of ninety-three."

"Frost I want to know everything there is to know about her."

"Ok."

She tosses her jacket onto the back of her chair, and grabs her keys.

"Where are you going?"

"To talk to Dr. Hayden."

"We don't have a warrant."

"I don't have to have one, to talk to her."

"What are you going to do?"

"Ask her if she knows who took Maia."

She storms out of the squad room. She jumps on the elevator. She leaves the precinct.

By the time she arrives at the pediatrician's office, she's so angry she feels as if her cheeks are on fire. She makes her way into the office. A receptionist greets her.

"Can I help you?"

"I need to speak with Dr. Hayden."

"You'll have to wait, she's in with a patient."

Jane flashes her badge, "It's urgent, I need to speak with her, now."

"Ok," the receptionist nods, understandingly. Jane ignores the glares from the people in the waiting room. A waiting room full of kids, and their parents. She takes a deep breath, the receptionist returns.

"This is Alex, he's our physician's assistant. He can answer any questions you have."

"I want to speak to Dr. Hayden," Jane clarifies.

"She'll be done in a few minutes," Alex tells her, "Follow me."

Jane huffs, in frustration. She follows him into an office. He closes the door behind her.

"What's this about?"

"Maia Emerson," Jane answers.

"I can't give you any information on her, it's..."

"I'm not here, for confidential information. She's missing. I want to know about how the mother interacted with her. I need to know, if..."

"I only saw Maia once, Dr. Hayden would know more about it, than I would. Let me get her," he offers.

"Thank you," she nods, as he leaves the room.

Jane looks at the picture's on the doctor's desk, as she waits. The door opens, and the doctor clears her throat. She's a tall blonde.

"Hi. I'm doctor Hayden."

"Detective Rizzoli."

"How can I help you?"

"I am investigating the disappearance of Maia Emerson. What can you tell me?"

"Not much."

"Do you know anyone who would want to take Maia?"

"No," she shakes her head.

Jane eyes the doctor suspiciously, trying to put pieces together.

"You have a daughter?" Jane points to the picture of the ten year old, in the frame.

"Yes," Dr. Hayden confirms.

"So you must sympathize, with what it would feel like, if your child went missing. I really need your help."

"The grandmother was not thrilled that Sarah chose to keep the baby. She criticized Sarah, a lot."

"And what did you see?"


	14. Go With The Gut

"Sarah is young, and she has done the best that she can, with the resources that she has."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"She's away from Maia, a lot. She works full time, and is planning on going back to school, next year."

"Who watches Maia, while Sarah works?"

"Sarah's mother, Katherine."

"When was the last time you saw Maia?"

"Last week. Sarah seemed overwhelmed. I think that she regretted all of the things she had to give up. She wasn't entirely prepared for all of the responsibilities."

"You don't think that she was doing a good job?"

"She could have done better."

"What about the father?"

"I never met him. He wasn't involved."

"Do you think that he could have taken her?"

"Most nineteen year old boys don't want a child. He didn't help support Maia, so I can't think of any reason he would want her to disappear."

Jane pulls out a card, and hands it to the doctor, "Call me, if you think of anything, that might help us find Maia."

"Ok," she nods.

Jane returns to the precinct. When she reaches the squad room, Barry is waiting on her.

"What did the doc tell you?"

"Not much."

"Do you think that she's a suspect?"

"My gut says yes," Jane admits.

"Something she said?"

"Frost can you find out where she worked, prior to nineteen ninety three?" she responds, not willing to discuss her true reasons.

"I don't have a record of her working anywhere, before that."

"Did you run her social?"

He types the numbers into the search engine. He looks up at Jane, "Because there are three names here. Emily Hayden, Emily Scott and Emily Dennison."

"Will you look up her medical license?"

"You think that she's a quack?" He inquires.

"It may explain the name change."

"Hold on a minute... Emily Dennison, was her maiden name. From nineteen eighty nine to nineteen ninety three, she was Emily Scott. She was married to Charles Scott. She got divorced, in January of ninety three. She didn't change her name back until September of ninety three."

"The same time she started at her practice?"

"Yes."

"When did she become Emily Hayden?"

"She remarried in ninety eight, to Steven Hayden."

"Keep digging, I am going to go talk to Maura."

"What makes you think that she's a suspect?"

"Something that Sarah said to me. And, there is something about her... I just can't explain it."

Jane steps into Maura's office. She taps her foot, impatiently, as she chews her nail.

"Have a seat, I'm not done yet," Maura tells her, sitting in front of the computer.

"Why did they put homicide on this?" Jane questions.

"Because they think that the mother killed the baby, and staged a kidnapping to cover it up."

"She didn't."

"You don't know that," Maura argues.

"Since when do you jump to conclusions?"

"Parents are often involved in their children's disappearances."

Jane shoots her a look, and closes the door.

"I said often, not always."

"I am telling you, it wasn't the mother."

"You don't want it to be her. You're too..."

"Too what?" Jane cuts her off, defensively.

"You're transferring your emotions, and experiences on to her."

"Maura, I am telling you, there is something about her..."

"Who?"

"The doctor."

"Oh."

"Maura it's like deja vu."

"I think that maybe you should take yourself off this case."

"I can't. I promised Sarah that I would find her daughter."

"Jane, you're too involved. You're not seeing things clearly. This isn't connected."

Before Jane can argue her phone is ringing. She pulls it from the clip on her belt, and puts it to her ear.

"Rizzoli. Yeah, I'll be right up," she hangs up, and leaves the room.

She returns to her desk. Frost shakes his head.

"Line one. There is a guy on the phone, who says that he'll only talk to you. He says it's about Maia," he reveals.

"Ok," she nods, taking a seat at her desk. She picks up the receiver.

"Rizzoli? She answers."

"I know where Maia is."

"Who is this?"

"You're looking in the right direction."

"Who is this?"

"A ghost," he hangs up the phone.

She puts the receiver down, and looks at Frost.

"That was weird."

"Jane, I found something."

"What?"

"Just a little fraud," he reveals.

"What do you mean?"

"I looked online, and found a picture of the doctor, with one of her kids."

"And?"

"I think we just opened a really big can of worms."

"But does it help us find Maia? I don't care about tax evasion."


	15. Something About Her

He points to the image on the screen. She studies the image of the doctor, and a teenage girl.

"This is Ava Hayden."

"Ok, and?"

"I was looking at public records."

"Frost, what is your point?"

"I found her birth certificate," he answers.

"So?"

"First of all, I'd like for you to look at the social security number."

"What about it?"

"The first three digits are always based on location."

"And?"

"Hers is 212."

"So?"

"It means that her social security number is from Maryland."

"Maybe she was born in Maryland."

"Ok, but bear with me," he tells her.

"Ok," she nods, in agreement.

"Look at the doctor's signature on the birth certificate."

"Emily Dennison? That's her. Are you sure that this is the original birth certificate? Maybe she was adopted. Those records are usually sealed."

"No, this is the original birth certificate."

"Is that legal?"

"No," Frost reveals.

"So..."

Frost continues to type. He furrows his brow.

"What?"

"This social security number is recycled."

"So?"

"The social security administration, doesn't do that."

"Then how did she get that number?"

"When someone dies, the number is basically deleted."

"Then how do you know that it belonged to someone else."

"Because I compared it to death certificates."

"You found something?"

"It belonged to a ninety eight year old woman, in Maryland."

"So, is Ava her only child?"

"I don't know."

"Keep digging," Jane tells him.

Jane pops into Maura's office, unexpectedly. Maura looks up from her desk.

"Have you found anything, significant?"

"The blood was a DNA match to the baby," Maura informs her.

Jane sinks into a seat, across the desk, from Maura.

"You know, one of my first real cases, was about a missing kid."

"That must have hit home, for you."

"It always does."

"Tell me about it."

"It was a cold case, the little girl had been missing, for six years. Her mother called, on her birthday, to ask me some questions."

"You found her?"

"Yeah, I promised that I would."

"Where?"

"In Texas."

"Dead?" Maura quizzes.

"No. Alive."

"You brought her back, to her mother?"

"She was ten. When she reunited with her mom, she pulled a locket out, from under her shirt. She opened it up, and showed it to her mother. There were two pictures, and they looked almost identical. I was amazed, she had been abducted, when she was three. She looked at her mother, and held up the locket. She told her that she knew the picture on the right was her, and the one on her left was her mother. She remembered her saying that no matter where she went, if she wore the necklace, she would be close to her heart."

"Wow."

"It wasn't a hard case, to solve."

"Why didn't they find her?"

"Everyone assumed the father took her. He disappeared around the same time."

"He didn't?"

"By the time the identified his body, three years after the fact, they had no idea where she was."

"Wow."

"And, the case that got me my spot at homicide, it was about a missing child."

"There are a lot of things, that you have never told me."

"A little boy went missing. He was seven, and he had a history of sleep walking. They thought that he had walked out of the house, in the middle of the night. The front door was standing wide open. It seemed like a pretty simple case."

"They never are."

"There weren't any fingerprints, or DNA."

"Who took him?"

"His youth pastor. We found six bodies, in his backyard."

"It makes you mad, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"That you can find someone else..."

"But I can't find my own child? I wasn't the cop on that case. The police work was shoddy."

"Do you think that you can find Maia?"

"I'm waiting on a little more evidence, so I can get a warrant."

"You know where she is?"

"The good doctor took her."

"What makes you think that?"

"Her other daughter, has a phony birth certificate."

"Phony how?"

"Her social is from a dead person, for starters."

"You don't think that Maia is the first that she's abducted?"

"No. There is something about her, that I just can't put my finger on."


	16. Unravel

She knocks on the door, with her gun drawn. She hears footsteps. Her partner stands to her right. Korsak is behind her. The door opens. She furrows her brow, when she finds a teenaged girl standing before her.

"Ava?"

"Do I know you?" she responds.

"I am detective Rizzoli. I am here to execute a search warrant. Is your mother home?"

"No."

"Is your father here?"

"My father is traveling on business."

"Are you home alone?"

"No," she shakes her head.

Jane lowers her gun.

"We have a warrant to search this house."

"You should come with me," Ava tells her.

"You're not going to ask why I'm here?"

"No," she shakes her head.

Jane follows her into the house. She follows her through the living room. On her left is a stair case. Jane follows her up the stairs. They reach the top of the stairs, and go to the end of the hallway. Ava pushes the door open. Jane stares at the pink nursery. She stands in the doorway, looking at the teenager.

"I was the amber alert, on the news," Ava tells her, moving towards the crib.

Jane joins her. She looks inside, and finds a sleeping baby. There is bandage on the palm of her hand. Jane looks to Ava.

"Do you know what happened to her hand?"

"No," she admits.

"Ava, how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Are you an only child?" she questions.

"No. Lucas is eleven. Grace is seven. Max is three. "

"Where are they?"

"In their rooms," she reveals.

Jane lifts the baby out of the crib.

"What happened?"

"When I woke up, in the morning, she was here. My mother said that she got the call, from the adoption agency, late at night."

"You didn't buy it?"

"He said that Max wasn't going to be the last. And I wasn't the first."

"Ava, what are you talking about?"

"My other brother."

"Your other brother?" she raises an eyebrow.

"My older brother."

"What did he say, exactly?"

"He was five, when I came home."

"You were adopted?"

"My father is away for months at a time. He was gone, when I was born. My brother said he saw her, take the belly off."

"And what about the others?"

"We were all at the hospital, when Lucas was born. She's really his."

"Grace?"

"She came in the middle of the night, too, when my dad was away."

"And, Max?"

"He showed up, one day, after school."

"Where is your older brother?"

"At school."

"When will he be home?"

"Soon," she answers.

Jane leaves the nursery. A CSRU tech comes up the stairs, they pass in the hallway. Downstairs, in the living room, she is met by a paramedic. She motions for Frost.

"Go with her, and put a call into CPS, there are three other kids asleep, upstairs."

"Ok," he nods, following the paramedic out of the room.

Ava leads her to the fireplace, in the living room. Jane stares at the portrait, hanging above the mantle. She stares at the faces. Five children, to parents. Three boys, two girls. Her eyes drift to individual pictures, lined up on the mantle. Each frame holds four pictures. The frame closest to her, is of the youngest child. The next, is of Grace. Next to Grace's frame, a picture of Max. Then, Ava. A baby picture, one from preschool, a ballet recital, and a Valentine's dance. Jane stops, when she reaches the picture to her far left. Another boy. High school graduation. Little league. First steps. Baby picture. She freezes, on the baby picture. She swallows hard.

Jane turns to Ava, "Your mother wasn't in her office."

"I don't think that you'll find her," Ava reveals.

"Why don't you, wait for me in the kitchen, I am going to go talk to my partner, for a moment."

"Ok," the teen nods.

Jane ducks under the crime scene tape, at the end of the driveway. She takes a few steps. She reaches the open ambulance. Frost watches, as they assess the sleepy baby girl.

"Frost, what exactly did you find, on Emily Hayden?"

"There was a lot, where do you want me to start?"

"Did she ever live in Florida?"

"Before she came here, in ninety three."

"Why did she come here?"

"I have yet to speak to any of her colleagues."

"Do you have a theory?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"Care to share?"

"On July 26th, 1993, she delivered a son. On his birth certificate, they used the last name, Scott. The death certificate was issued two days later. He was born a couple of weeks before his due date. She found him dead, in his crib, at three o'clock in the morning."

"I thought she divorced in January of that year."

"She did. It was the husband's baby, but he was out of town, when he was born. He came back for the funeral. She left shortly afterward. She issued her letter of resignation, on the thirty first of July."

"She has a son, who..."

"When she got to Boston, she showed up with a baby. Before she left Florida, she had a new birth certificate issued. She used the last name Dennison. That baby had not death certificate."

"But why?"

"So she could register her stolen child, for school, when he was old enough."

"How old is he?"

"He's nineteen."

"What's his name?"


	17. I Know Who You Are

"Michael," he answers, "Her son's name was Michael. The only question, is who that child actually is."

"I'm going to be sick," she answers.

He notices all of the color has drained from her face. He points to the bumper of the ambulance.

"Have a seat, you don't look so good."

She lowers herself to the bumper, without protest.

"Jane, what is going on?"

"I don't know."

"You obviously know more than I do."

"We're about to solve a nineteen year old case."

"I know."

"I can't explain this, right now," she admits, vacating her seat.

She turns, and heads down the driveway. She once again ducks under the crime scene tape. She finds Ava, in the kitchen.

"Do you have picture albums?"

"We have scrapbooks. They're in the living room. They're in the drawers of the coffee table."

"Thank you."

She pulls the drawers open, when she reaches them. She tosses each book aside, until she reaches the last one. She reads the name, and flips to the first page. She finds a baby picture. She turns to the last page. A young man, at his high school graduation stares back at her. He's got dark, curly hair, and slate blue eyes. She feels her heart about to beat through her chest. She feels as if she can't breathe. Then she hears her name.

"Jane?"

She looks up, and finds Korsak, staring at her. She tries to maintain her composure.

"Yeah?"

"The other son is outside, he said that he wants to talk to you."

"Oh."

"Only you," Vince clarifies.

"Ok," she nods.

She leaves the house, and steps into the driveway. The scene is light, but the flashing lights of police cruisers. She moves towards the tape. She stops, just short of reaching it. She stands, frozen, staring at that face. The officer holds the tape up.

"Going through, or not?" he asks.

She simply nods, and ducks under the tape, "Thanks."

She takes a few steps, and then stops. She looks at the young man, less than a foot away from her.

"Detective Rizzoli," she offers a hand.

"I know who you are."

"I make the news, occasionally. Half of Boston knows who I am."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh."

"Emily is in the wind, I'm sure. I can tell you what you need to know."

"You call her Emily?"

"Since I was five. She hates that she has to lie about why."

"Oh."

"I've been waiting for this day, since I was five years old."

"You have?"

"You've probably been waiting longer."

"Much," she admits.

"Don't let me interrupt you. What you do is very important."

A few hours later, she finds herself, standing outside an interview room. She just stares inside. Her partner comes up, beside her.

"Are you ready?"

"You know he isn't responsible, right?" she begins.

"I know that, he's just a kid."

"He's nineteen."

"Jane, you know he..."

"He what?"

"Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"We'll see," she answers.

"Ok," he nods.

They step into the room. She takes a seat across from Michael. Frost sits to her left. She says nothing, she just stares, at the young man.

"Michael, you're the one who called?" Frost begins.

"Yes," he confirms.

"We really need your help, to put her away," Frost adds.

"I don't know where she went, but she's not as smart, as she thinks she is," Michael responds.

"In what way?"

"She kept souvenirs. I found the box. She hid it in the attic. The blankets. They were in a box. Each of them were wrapped, with a bow, and had our names on them. I didn't understand. The things that she kept from out childhoods were always placed in a storage container, with our names on the outside. This box was unmarked. I was older, when I found it."

"What do you remember, from when Ava came home?" Frost inquires.

"I was five. It was just after my fifth birthday. Emily went away. When she came back, she had Ava."

"Who did you stay with?"

"A sitter came to the house. She paid her. She told her to leave, at ten am, that she would be home at five after."

"Did she?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"Why Boston?" Jane finally joins the conversation.

"Her mother was sick. Emily was from Florida, but her mother was from Boston. When Emily was in college, her mother returned to take care of Emily's aunt. Her mother, Avis, died, when I was three."

"What about Lucas?" Frost inquires.

"He is hers. I was at the hospital, when he was born."

"And Grace?" Jane quizzes.

"I was twelve, when Grace appeared, in the middle of the night. Max showed up, when I was sixteen. I knew that she would be bringing another one home, soon. Max is going to preschool this year. He's gifted, so he's starting preschool early."

"Do you have proof, that she took any of them?"

"Detailed journals, that I started, when I was eight. Not to mention, that according the to birth certificates, we all belong to her. The only biological child she has, is Lucas."


	18. Not Allowed To Ask

Jane finishes the interview, and heads for the elevator. She plans to go to Maura's office, to see what conclusions she's come to. Before the elevator door can close, someone jumps on. The doors close behind her. She stares at the muscular young man, who stands around six foot five. She looks into his blue eyes.

"Jane, I know who you are. I know who I am."

"I..."

"I did a lot of research. I hacked into files, and..." he trails off.

"And?"

"I hated her. From the time I was very small, I hated her. When I was four, I saw a picture of you, in the newspaper. I always questioned, why I didn't look like her. I saw the picture, and I asked, why I looked more like you, a stranger."

"What did she say?"

"She didn't answer me. She tried so hard to love me, but I didn't want her love. For some reason, I cut out the picture, and stuffed it in a box. When I was mad at her, I would take it out, and wish that you were my mom. Then Ava came along. When Grace came along, I knew that something was wrong. I started looking for answers."

"What did you find?" Jane questions, as the doors open.

"I called her ex-husband. When I told him, who I was, he flipped his lid. He asked if I was playing a sick joke on him. He told me that his son had died, and hung up."

"What did she say, about him?"

"That he didn't want to be a parent, so that's why he didn't see me."

"That's terrible."

"When I was fifteen, I took a computer class. The teacher was a whiz, and he was also my study hall teacher. I found my birth certificate, and my death certificate."

"I'm sorry."

"And, then I stumbled on the missing persons report. I couldn't believe it, when I saw your name. Your co-workers don't know, do they?"

"I don't talk about it."

"I was the one person, you could never find."

"She came into my room, the day you were born. She pretended to be a housekeeper."

"I confronted her about it. She said she went to put her letter of resignation in, and walked by the nursery. She looked at all the babies. She saw my crib card. She saw my name was Michael."

"This is all so..."

"Hard to believe?"

Jane nods.

"Where are we going?" Michael asks, as they round the corner.

"To talk to the ME."

"No one's dead."

"She's my best friend," Jane admits, opening the door, to Maura's office.

Maura watches, as Jane enters the room. Michael steps in, behind her.

"Who is this?" Maura questions.

"Michael," Jane answers.

Maura says nothing.

"This doctor Isles," Jane introduces him.

"Nice to meet you," he smiles.

Maura stares at him, in confusion.

"Maybe a cheek swab would put your mind at ease?" Michael offers, Jane.

Jane nods, "Will you get a cheek swab, Maura?"

Maura steps out of her office, into autopsy. After a brief moment, she returns. She offers Jane the cheek swabs. Jane hands one to Michael. Maura takes them, when they're finished, and writes their names on them.

"So this is..."

"Michael," Jane answers.

"Michael, who?"

"Run those, and you'll know," he smirks.

"Right," Maura nods.

Michael turns to Jane, "This was a big case, with a lot of information to take in. I am going to call Dax, so he can pick up Lucas. You know how to reach me, if you need to. I am sure that you'll have more questions to ask."

"Ok," Jane nods.

Michael takes a step closer. He envelopes Jane, in a bear hug, "See you later."

"See you later," she watches him leave the room.

"Jane?" Maura clears her throat.

"That's him."

"Jane I'm..."

"Run the DNA, Maura."

"Where are you going?"

"I have to find her. I want a piece of her," she answers, before leaving the room.

When she enters the squad room, she finds her partner grabbing his stuff.

"You coming?" he asks.

"Yeah," she follows him to the elevator.

"I just got off the phone, with a clerk, at a hotel, in Cape Cod. The doctor just checked in. Local Leo's are meeting us there."

"Good."

She silent as they walk to the car. She doesn't say a word, as he unlocks the car door, and heads for the driver's seat. She climbs in, next to him. They have ridden in silence, for ten minutes, when he gets the courage to ask.

"Are you ok?"

"No," she responds.

"You want to share?"

"No."

"This case seems different..."

She cuts him off, "I don't understand why we even caught this case. We're homicide. There wasn't a homicide."

"Cavanaugh wanted you on it."

"Clearly."

"Why? You always get eerily quiet, when we're looking for kids, why?"

She says nothing, she just looks out the window, to her right.

"Or, am I not allowed to ask that?"

"I don't like cases with kids."

"No one does. What was going on with you, and the suspect's son? Did you know him?"

She stares out the window, and watches as the city whirls past her window. She tries to clear her mind, of all of the awful thoughts that she's having, but she can't.


	19. Close To Home

He clears his throat, "Jane?"

"Hm?" she turns, and looks at him.

"Did you hear what I asked?"

"It hits home for me," she answers.

"Oh," he responds. He chooses to drop it, afraid to push his luck.

"You aren't going to ask why?"

"If you want me to know, you'll tell me."

"I lost someone, close to me."

"A childhood friend?" he guesses.

"No," she shakes her head.

"A cousin?"

"No."

"A sibling?"

"A son," she answers, under her breath.

He takes his eyes off the road, for a moment, and looks at her.

"A son?" he questions.

"I had a son," she tells him.

"You had a son?" He furrows his brow, "What are you talking about?"

"I had a son."

"No. You don't have a kid, you've never had a kid. You've always been a cop, when would you have had time to have a son?"

"I wasn't a cop, then."

"You graduated high school, and..."

She cuts him off, "It was why I became a cop. I was seventeen years old."

"You expect me to believe, that you had a baby, at seventeen?"

"I did. I don't talk about it. Up until last week, my mother, and dead grandmother, were the only people that I had ever told."

"Who did you tell?"

"I told Maura."

"Why don't you talk about it?"

"I don't like to think about it. It was the worst experience in my life."

"Because you were too young, and you didn't want a kid."

"I was young, very young, but I wanted him. My mother, didn't think that I should keep him. We never even told my father."

"Why not?"

"Because up until then, I was always the perfect child. I was a little bit mouthy, but I always did everything right. When she found out, I think that she was too ashamed to tell anyone. She thought that it reflected poorly, on her."

"What happened? You changed your mind?"

"Not exactly."

"Tell me," he implores her.

"I had just gotten him home, from the hospital," she swallows hard, and clenches her jaw, in an attempt to stave off tears, "I woke up, in the middle of the night, and he was gone."

"Someone took him?"

"Yes."

"Did they ever find him?"

"He disappeared."

"You never found him?"

"He's why my stint with missing persons only lasted a month. I couldn't handle it. I was good at it. I could find everyone else's missing persons, but I couldn't find him. He was the only one that I wanted to find, and I never could."

"You were seventeen, so if he's still out there, he would be, nineteen?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"How did your dad miss a newborn? I am not entirely sure how you hid a pregnancy..."

"I went to my grandmother's for the summer. I was supposed to have him, and give him up for adoption. Then, when the summer was over, I was supposed to come home."

"But that's not what happened?"

"No."

"What was his name?"

"Michael."

"Michael? He was born in Boston?"

"No, Tampa."

"Tampa? The same city that Emily Hayden came from, in nineteen ninety three?"

"Yes."

"Her son's name is Michael," he adds.

"I know."

"Is he...?"

"I think so."

"Does he know?"

"He is the one who called me, earlier."

"That your his... or could be..."

"Maura is running the DNA."

"You should have told me."

"It was something that I buried, a long time ago. I didn't think that I would ever find him. I followed the leads, and it went cold. I did everything, but I couldn't find him. The worst part, is that he was right here, in the same city, the whole time."

"Did you recognize her?"

"Not at first. Then I picture her nineteen years younger, with brown hair, and..."

"Are you sure that you're ok, to do this?"

"No, but I have to do it."

In about an hour, they're pulling into a hotel parking lot. There are already police cars there. Frost gets out, Jane stays in the car. Frost escorts a handcuffed Emily from the back of one police car, to their car. He shoves her inside, and slams the door. Frost looks at his partner.

"Are you sure that you don't want to drive?"

"No. It's better this way."

The ride back to Boston is silent. When they reach the precinct, they throw Emily into an interview room. Jane is on her way to see Maura, when her phone rings.

"Rizzoli," she answers.

"Where are you?"

"I'm upstairs, why?"

"I got the DNA results back."

"And?"

"Congratulations, it's a boy."


	20. Lost And Found

"He's yours."

"I know."

"He looks like you."

"Maura, I've got to go. I have an interrogation to do, and I'm getting another call."

"Ok, bye," she hangs up.

Jane answers the phone call.

"Jane?"

"Michael?"

"I went home, to show CSRU where some important things they would need, were, and to get a couple of things. When we went into the attic, I found another box," he tells her.

"Another box?"

"It had a blanket, and a couple of pictures. One was of me, when I was about a year old, with a baby. The baby says that it's me, and Thomas."

"You think that there was another baby?"

"I was too young to remember. Did you find her?"

"I'm getting ready to interview her."

"Ask her about it."

"Ok."

"I'll talk to you later."

"Oh, DNA came back," she tells him.

"And?"

"It confirmed, what you already knew."

"Good."

"Bye," she hangs up.

She returns to the interview room. Her partner waits at the door. He gives her a look.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

"Yeah," she nods, pushing open the door.

She walks in, and takes a seat, across from the culprit. She takes a deep breath, and begins.

"Tell me about Michael," Jane begins.

"He's a smart boy, headstrong, though."

"Your son Michael, died, when he was a few days old," Frost points out.

"No, Michael is nineteen. You met him, didn't you?" Emily responds.

Jane looks at her, but Emily avoids eye contact, with Jane.

"Your son died, and it caused you to have some sort of emotional breakdown, didn't it? You put your letter of resignation in, at the hospital."

"It wasn't like that."

"You saw Michael, in the nursery."

"My son, and I left Florida, shortly after he was born. His father didn't want to be involved."

"You came into my hospital room. You saw that I was seventeen years old. I was completely unprepared. How did I get a perfect baby? I bet that's what you were thinking. You were a doctor, you could take care of a baby. I was a teenager, I couldn't even take care of myself. That's what you thought, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me. I was there. I remember. I woke up, in the middle of the night, and my son, my Michael was gone. Then, one day, he saw a picture of me, in the newspaper, and he started asking questions."

"He looks like his father," Emily argues, maintaining her innocence.

"Our lab is dedicated to giving us speedy results, so that we can solve our cases. DNA confirmed, he's not your son," Jane tells her.

She swallows hard, "You didn't deserve him. He wouldn't leave it alone. He wanted you to be his mommy. I couldn't believe it, when I saw you, in the paper. You were nobody. I came to Boston, thinking I would be safe."

"I didn't live in Tampa. My grandmother did. I have always lived in Boston."

"Without me, you never would have had a chance to succeed. I did you a favor."

Jane is so angry, that she can't respond.

Frost continues, with the interview, "You could have stopped, with just one. If you had, no one probably ever would have known."

"I always wanted a large family."

"Tell me about Ava," Frost insists.

Jane shakes her head, "I want to know about Thomas."

Frost turns his head, and looks at her. He furrows his brow. "Thomas?" he questions.

"What happened to Thomas?" Jane questions.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emily answers.

"I'll find him. I will find out what happened to him. You can count on that."

Korsak leads the investigation, at the house. He stands in the backyard, looking at a fountain. He walks around the side of the house, towards the driveway. He finds Michael headed to his car.

"Hey, Michael?" he hollers.

"Yeah?"

Korsak walks over to the car. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, anything that will help the investigation."

"How long has the fountain been in the backyard?"

"I don't remember, since I was really little. There is a date on it, somewhere."

"You know, you remind me of someone."

"I should," he answers.

"Has it always been there?"

"You know, I used to have a sandbox. I played with my trucks, in it. I don't remember what happened to it. I barely remember the sandbox, but I wasn't in school yet."

"Do you remember Thomas, at all?"

"I have some early memories, but no."

"Do you think that he was the only other one?"

"I hope so. You think that he's buried under the fountain, don't you?"

"You've seen a few cop shows, haven't you?"

"I am studying to be one," he admits.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I don't know what happened to Thomas, but if he was here, he would have had a birth certificate, even if it was fake," Michael points out.

Jane looks at Frost. His laptop sits in front of him.

"Pull up records, for Thomas Dennison," Jane suggests.

"Ok, I've got Thomas Dennison, aged eighty eight. Thomas Dennison, born July 8th, 1994. I have no death certificate."

"So, Emily, what happened to Thomas?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" Frost spins the computer around, "Because, your name is on the birth certificate."


	21. Shallow

Korsak watches, as a dog sniffs a blue baby blanket. The cadaver dog sucks in the smell. He sits back, and watches. The dogs handler looks to Korsak.

"Where should we start?" he asks.

"The back yard," Vince answers.

The officer leads the dog into the backyard. It's fenced in, and the handler lets the dog off the leash. The dog takes a sniff, at the fountain, but quickly moves on. He moves on, to the play house, in the corner of the yard. It's a wooden playhouse, worn by weather, and the love of a few children. The dog starts to bark.

Korsak makes a phone call. The handler collects the dog. Maura arrives, less than half an hour later. The CSRU techs follow her over to the play house. Vince looks to her, for advice.

"It his just sitting there, can we move it?" she questions.

Vince looks at the four foot, by four foot play house, that stands four and a half feet tall. He nods, and motions for some officers to help him. They come over, and lift the house. They move it towards the middle of the back yard.

Vince quickly notices that Maura is wearing scrubs. She squats the ground, and motions for the techs to join her. She gives explicit instructions, and they slowly begin to dig. Korsak hovers, nearby. Maura drops a trowel full of dirt into a bucket, and looks up at Vince, who stands at her side.

"You're blocking my light."

"Sorry, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Coffee would be nice, we're probably going to be here awhile," she tells him two feet down.

He nods, and leaves the scene. He's barely gone fifteen minutes. When he returns Maura is zipping up the body bag. He moves towards her, with the cup of coffee. They carry the body out, on a stretcher. He offers Maura the cup, and looks at the hole.

"That's not a very deep hole."

"Buried far less than six feet. Around sixty six centimeters we encountered fabric."

"He was wrapped in something?"

"A blanket. I am not certain that it is Thomas."

"How old?"

"I will know more once I get the chance to begin the autopsy."

"How old?"

"He wasn't an infant," Maura replies.

"So she buried him, in the backyard, in a shallow grave?"

"Yes," Maura confirms.

"Maura, I want to find out what happened to this kid, as much as you do,"

"But?"

"I made a couple of phone calls, and I got the go ahead for ground penetrating radar. I was hoping that you would stay."

"You should talk to Michael, make sure there isn't anything else buried in this backyard."

"Like what?"

"Fluffy, or Fido."

"Ok."

"If you find anything, I'll come back, but I want to start on this autopsy."

"Ok," he agrees.

Jane enters autopsy, as Maura is finishing her exam. It's late, and they've both been there, far too many hours, for one day. Jane stares silently at the body, as Maura zips it back into the body bag. Jane looks at her watch.

"How long have you been back?" Jane questions.

"About an hour."

"You're done?"

"I collected all of the evidence that I can. I did a preliminary exam."

"But?"

"I am going to send the body to a forensic anthropologist."

"Oh."

"Have you eaten?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Do you want to grab a bite?"

"Not after the day I've had."

"Ok."

"How old was he?"

"I am not one hundred percent certain," she responds.

"Give me a ballpark, Maura."

"Somewhere between sixteen, and twenty months."

They both soon leave. Jane heads to her apartment, and Maura heads to her house. Jane lies awake, in her bed, for a while, but eventually drifts to sleep. She wakes up, to the sound of the alarm.

She climbs out of bed, and into the shower. After a few moments with the hair dryer, a pass at her teeth, with a toothbrush, she leaves the apartment, and heads to work. She doesn't make a beeline for the squad room, or even autopsy. Instead she stops outside of Cavanaugh's office. She knocks on the door, and pushes it open.

"Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, Rizzoli, come in."

She steps in, and closes the door behind herself. He sits behind his desk.

"Have a seat," he tells her.

"I would rather stand," she admits.

"What's going on?"

"I need to be taken off this case."

"Why?"

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what? That you got a confession, to at least one kidnapping?"

"I want her to go to prison, and rot in jail. The death penalty would be too good for her."

"Ok."

"Which, is why I can't stay on this case."

"I don't understand."

"I don't like to talk about it."

"About what?"

Jane pulls a worn business card out of her pocket. She hands it to him. He takes it from her. He looks at it. There is a crease down the middle, where it has been folded. The edges are worn. The paper has yellowed slightly with age. He flips it over, and finds a number on the back, written in, what he recognizes as, Jane's handwriting.

"Call him. Have those case files faxed over. Then you'll understand."

"Is it something we need to talk about?"

"Absolutely, but I can't, not now."

"Rizzoli..."

"Please," she begs, on the verge of tears.

"Ok," he nods, in agreement.


	22. Understanding

She finds her best friend, leaning against a table, in autopsy, when she comes in. Jane says nothing, as Maura walks into the room. Instead, of making eye contact, she stares at her shoes, or the floor.

"You want to talk about it?" Maura inquires.

"It's stupid."

"What?"

"What I just realized."

"And, what's that?" Maura raises an eyebrow.

"You never get the baby back."

"Huh?"

"You never get the child that you lost back. Even if they're returned, after a few hours, or days, or decades, they've changed. It doesn't matter how long they are taken from you. When they come back, they're not the same. You lose that time. You never get that time back."

"Did you talk to Cavanaugh?"

"I'm hiding from him."

"And, why is that?"

"Because about now, he should be getting faxed over case files, from Tampa, circa nineteen ninety three."

"Oh."

"I haven't told Vince."

"You told Frost?"

Jane looks up. She stares at Maura, with sad eyes. "Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"Not much."

"You're worried about telling Vince?"

"I have to tell everyone. At the very least, I have to explain it to everyone. I mean it will come out, eventually. The case will go to trial. I will have to testify."

"It will be ok."

"I just don't want it tot become a media circus. I don't want all the dirty details of my personal life to make the front page of the newspaper."

"I know."

"People are going to question my credibility."

"How could you remain impartial?"

"Not only that, but I am a homicide detective. How can I solve murders, when I couldn't even solve the disappearance of my own son, when he lived in the same city, all along?" she swallows hard, "What if this ruins my career?"

"It won't. Jane, you didn't do anything wrong."

"The worst part, isn't even what everyone else thinks, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"He wasn't just taken from me. His entire childhood was taken from me, and from him. I missed everything, and I feel like it was my fault. I feel like I'm the bad guy."

"You have the rest of your lives to make up for lost time."

"I don't want to be here, right now."

"So take a personal day, go home."

Jane's phone starts to ring. She looks at the number, and pulls the phone from the case, on her hip.

"Rizzoli," she answers, "Yes, I'll be right up," she hangs up.

"Cavanaugh?" Maura guesses.

Jane nods, and heads for the door. She makes beeline for the elevator, once she reaches the hallway.

She gets upstairs, and opens the door to Cavanaugh's office. She closes the door behind her. He looks at her, with a mix of pity, and disbelief, in his eyes. He clears his throat.

"Have a seat," he tells her, pointing to a chair, on the opposite side of the desk, from him.

She nods, and obediently takes a seat.

"Your passion, and drive, they all make sense to me, now. I used to ask myself what drove you, to be such a good cop. I only wish that you had told me."

"I'm sorry."

"What made you choose homicide?" he wonders.

"After all that time, I figured that the only way I would ever see him again, was if it was in a body bag. I hoped, that I would find him, alive, but I know the statistics."

"You're off the case. He isn't a suspect. We have a solid case. He is going to make a hell of a cop, one day."

"What?!"

"He's going to be a cop," he tells her.

"Oh."

"He started keeping detailed journals, around nine years old. He saved things, that he thought would be important. I think that we have enough to put her away, for a long time. Jane, what I'm saying, is, it's ok for you to contact him."

"I don't need permission."

"What's holding you up, then?"

"I just don't know what to say to him."

"The truth."

"The truth?" she sighs.

"Does you family know?"

"My mother does. My grandmother did."

"No one else?"

Jane shakes her head, "I was seventeen. He wasn't planned. I was never supposed to want to keep him."

"He was a secret?"

She nods.

"He's not, anymore."

"No."

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That it was him? That he was your son?"

"Yes," she nods.

"It's hard to adjust, when the last image of your child, is of him as an infant."

"I don't really want to talk about it."

"He's in the navy, you know."

"No."

"Graduated as valedictorian, from high school, at age sixteen."

"There are a lot of things that I don't know about him.

"He's a lot like you."

"You met him?"

He nods, "You should go talk to him."

"Is he here?"

"He's in the cafeteria."


	23. Court-side

Jane finds Michael in the cafeteria, sitting at a table, with a cup of coffee. He watches Angela, silently, from his seat. Jane slides into the seat across the table from him.

"Cavanaugh told me that you were here."

"She's your mother?" he questions.

"Yeah," Jane confirms.

"Do you think that she knows?"

"I don't know," Jane shrugs.

"You want anything?" he inquires.

"Can we go somewhere else?"

"Yeah," he nods.

She leads him out of the precinct. He stops her, halfway down the stairs, outside of the precinct.

"Jane, where are we going?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"I have a lot of questions."

"I know," she admits.

They sit at a table, at the Dirty Robber. He sips his soda, and she watches him, as if she's never going to let him out of her sight, again.

"I wish I had gotten to be there, for you, sooner."

"Me, too."

"I have to be honest, I don't know what to say to you."

"I know. Can I start?" he wonders.

"Sure," she nods.

"You were seventeen?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"I can't imagine how scary that had to be."

"It was incredibly scary, but the instant that they put you in my arms... it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered then, was you."

"You were going to keep me, and raise me?"

"Despite my mother's objections."

"Your life would have been a lot different, a lot harder."

"But I would have had you."

"What about my father?"

She swallows hard, "What about him?"

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. I can find out, if you want."

"He didn't want to be a father?"

"He was young."

"You were young, too."

"He never got to meet you, which is his loss."

"I don't know a lot about you, other than you are an amazing detective," he comments.

"I would rather get to know you," she admits.

"Please?"

She nods, "Ok."

"Siblings?"

"Two, Frankie, and Tommy."

"Michael, if you do want to meet your biological father, I can track him down. It's up to you."

"I don't need to know him."

"What was it like, growing up, with..."

"A psycho mother? I enjoy being a brother, but..." he trails off.

"But, what?" she raises an eyebrow.

"I always felt different. I didn't feel like she wanted me. I didn't feel like I belonged. I always felt like part of me was missing, and it was."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I couldn't find you."

"Did you know?" he questions.

"Know what?"

"That I was still alive?"

"Yes, and no."

"What do you mean?" he inquires.

"Statistically, I knew that the chances were next to nothing."

"But?"

"I thought that if you were dead I would be able to feel it. I thought that my gut would tell me that you were."

"And it never did?"

"No, but it's difficult not to lose hope, after such a long period of time."

"I know."

"And, it's just now hitting me, that time doesn't stand still. I can never get the baby I lost back, he's lost, forever."

He smiles, "Instead you have an eighteen year old sitting in front of you."

"It's surreal."

"When I saw you, at my house... I couldn't believe it. I had dreamed of that day, for so long. From the first time I saw your picture, I thought about it. But, like you, time stood still. I always dreamed of being a six year old kid, who you came, and rescued."

"I wish that I could have. I wish I could have spared you all of the pain."

"Even if I was with you, you couldn't protect me from everything," he reminds her.

"You know, there is a Knicks game on tonight," she says, testing him.

"Why would you bring that up? I'm a Celtics fan, I bleed green."

"There's a Celtics game tonight, too," she lights up.

"I know, I have tickets."

"You have tickets?"

"Courtside."

"How did you get courtside tickets?"

"There were a birthday present, I have season tickets."

"Unbelievable," she smiles.

"You're going with me," he tells her.

"I would love too, but..."

"No excuses, you're going."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Who else am I going to take?"

"One of your friends."

"They've seen enough courtside games."


	24. Questions

Jane looks at the young man sitting next to her. His dark curls surround his face, like the halo. She takes a deep breath, and does her best not to cry.

"I know that you have a lot of questions, and I'm happy to answer any of them."

"Would you still make the same choice?"

"What choice?" Jane questions.

"Keeping me," he responds.

"In a heartbeat."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," she nods, "I know that you are probably curious about your father."

"Like I said, I don't need..."

She shakes her head, and cuts him off, "Half of figuring out who you are, is figuring out where you came from."

"What did he do, when you told him?"

"It doesn't matter," she answers.

"He didn't want any part of it, did he?"

"We were kids. I don't blame him."

"Do you know where he is, now?"

She looks at her watch, "Probably in the gym."

"How do you know that? You keep in touch with him?"

She shakes her head, "No. he's a football player."

"At his age, he's still a football player?"

"He's in the NFL."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"He's that good?"

"How do you think that you got here," she smiles.

"What do you mean?"

"I am not easily impressed," she admits.

"What team does he play for?"

"Not the right one, so it doesn't really matter," Jane responds.

"No, not really."

"So, tell me more about you."

"Like what?"

"Anything, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

"My favorite color is blue."

"You like school?"

"I don't like it, but I'm good at it. I don't mean to sound conceded, but I am good at a lot of things."

"I am not surprised."

"I used to play football, and baseball, and basketball, and track."

"Which was your favorite?"

"Football. I was terrible at track. I have the coordination of a drunk goose, jumping over hurdles was not my idea of fun for Saturday morning."

"You're good at football?"

"I had a lot of scholarship offers," he admits, "For football, and academic."

"But you want to be a cop?"

"Yeah," he admits.

"Why?"

"I just want to pursue justice, for the people who can no longer can, for themselves."

"You could be anything that you wanted," Jane points out.

"I want to be a cop. No one understands that."

"I do," she smiles.

"When do I get to meet your family?"

"Our family? I don't know," she shrugs, "The only person who knows that you ever existed, is my mother. My grandmother passed away."

"You're friend, Maura, you told her?"

"She has a way of getting the truth out of people."

"I could tell that."

"Michael, I am sorry, that I didn't find you sooner."

"Everything happens for a reason," he reminds her.

"Why don't we have dinner at Maura's tonight?"

He doesn't answer.

"My mother lives in her guest house. I am sure that she'll have something cooked."

"Ok," he agrees.

Hours later, she sits in the driveway, in front of Maura's house, in silence. She hasn't called ahead, to give anyone a heads up, that she's coming. She turns, and looks at the passenger, in her front seat. He fidgets, nervously, fiddling with his tie. She looks at him, in disbelief.

"I can't believe that you're here," she tells him.

"In your car?"

"Alive. I can't believe that you're grown."

"It's been nineteen years," he reminds her.

She nods, "I know, but until I saw you, for the most part, I pictured you as a my little baby. I guess you never get that baby back."

"No, I guess not."

His dark blue eyes, match his cobalt blue button up. He wears a striped tie, and a pair of dress pants. He looks out the window, and then he looks at her.

"You're nervous, that's ok."

"I don't know what to say."

"Why did you get dressed up?"

"I just assumed..." he admits.

"It's ok. You look fine. I should warn you, she's going to ask you a million questions, before she even knows who you are."

"What if she doesn't like me?"

"That's impossible."

"Are you sure that this is a good idea? I know that I said I wanted to meet her, but it can wait. We can skip dinner, you know. We still have Celtics tickets."

"We have to do this."

"I know."

"Should we go in, or do you want to sit in the car, all night?"

"I would be happy with sitting in the car," he admits, wiping his palms on his pants.

"Let's just get this over with," she suggests.

"Ok," he nods, in agreement.


	25. Lifetime Achievement

She takes they keys out of the ignition, and they both climb out. They slowly walk up stone walkway. He stops at the door, and looks at her.

"Do I need to ring the bell?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Knock?" he questions.

She opens the door. He nods, and follows her in. From the entry way, they can see Angela in the kitchen. He slips his shoes off. Angela looks up, from the island.

"Jane, I didn't know that you were coming to dinner," Angela comments, "Maura hasn't made it home, yet."

"That's ok."

Michael stands out of her line of sight.

"I made lasagna," Angela announces.

"I hope that you made extra. What am I saying, of course you did. You always make enough for an army."

"Frankie, and Tommy aren't coming. It's just the three of us," Angela tells her.

"I brought a guest," Jane turns, and motions for him to follow her.

He follows her into the kitchen.

"A guest? Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten out the China," Angela responds, with her back turned to Jane, as she fishes through the cabinet, for a couple more place settings.

"Ma! You don't have to get out the fine China."

She turns around, with the plates. She sets them on the island. She looks at Jane, and then to the young man standing next to her.

"He's a little young for you, don't you think?" Angela whispers.

"He's not my date," Jane furrows her brow.

"Is he your trainee?" Angela wonders.

"No," Jane shakes her head.

"Are you going to introduce us, or are you going to let me keep guessing?" Angela inquires.

"Keep guessing," Jane replies.

Angela stops, and flips on the overhead light. She looks at the boy, that is standing next to Jane. He's in his late teens, with dark curly hair, and big blue eyes. He smiles widely at her, with a set of perfectly white teeth. He looks at Jane, for a moment. She gives him a subtle nod. She steps forward, moving towards Angela. He extends his hand.

"Hi, Mrs. Rizzoli, I'm Michael, it's nice to meet you."

She says nothing, she just stares at him. Michael looks back at Jane, for guidance.

"Ma! You're being rude," Jane insists.

Angela studies the young man standing before her. He's tall, dark, and handsome. He has a golden complexion. He has big, dark blue eyes. His hair is dark, and curly. His smile reminds her of Jane's. His teeth are shaped the same. He has a strong jawline. He's... she looks at Jane.

"Where did you find him? Is this some kind of sick joke, after what I said, the other day?" Angela tries to reason.

Jane shakes her head, "No, it's not a sick joke. This is Michael."

"Michael is a very common name," Maura points out, as she comes into the room.

Michael turns nervously, towards Jane.

"I think this was a mistake," he tells her, ready to flee.

Jane steps forward, moving towards her mother.

"Ma, this is Michael. He is nineteen," she adds.

"Nineteen?"

"Yes."

"He's..." Angela swallows hard.

Michael steps up to the plate, "I know that it's hard to believe. It's hard for me to believe, but I am Michael," he pauses, and looks at Jane, "Her Michael."

"Her Michael," Angela repeats, "You're her Michael? You're our Michael?" she utters, in disbelief.

"Yes, ma'am," he nods.

"How? When? Where? It doesn't matter, right now," she admits. She smiles at Michael, "Give me a hug."

He smiles, as he wraps his arms around her. She envelopes him into a hugs. She holds on for several seconds. Finally she lets go, after nearly squeezing the air out of him.

"It's really him?" she asks Jane.

"Yeah," Jane nods.

"I don't understand," Angela answers.

Maura stares at the lasagna, "Why don't we discuss it over dinner?"

"I'm starving," Jane admits.

Angela nods, and carries the food to the table. They sit down around the table, and begin to eat. Jane chews slowly, surveying the scene before her. Maura chows down on her dinner. Angela doesn't touch her food, she just stares at the young man, sitting next to her.

"You know, you look just like I imagined," Angela tells him.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"This lasagna is really good," he compliments her.

"I am glad that you like it. I want to apologize, though," Angela admits.

"For what? The lasagna is fantastic," Michael responds.

"For telling your mother that she shouldn't keep you. I am sorry for not supporting her. I feel responsible for what happened. If I had allowed her to make the decision, she never would have gone to Tampa to have you. You never would have been kidnapped. You would have been right here, with us, where you belonged, all along."

"Don't be sorry. Everything happens for a reason," Michael smiles.

"Unfortunately I wasn't ready to be a grandmother, back then. I am now."

"You're still too young to be a grandma," he tells her.

"I'm too young to be your grandmother, but that isn't your fault."

"I was young, and foolish," Jane reminds her.

"Accidents happen," Angela agrees.

"I wouldn't take it back," Jane admits.

"I wouldn't want you to. I never told you, how proud I was of you," Angela replies.

"For what?" Jane furrows her brow, "Getting pregnant, as a teenager? Becoming a parent at seventeen? Sleeping too soundly to hear someone come into my room, and take my baby, from me?"

"I am proud of you because you did the right thing. It wasn't the easy thing, but it was the right thing. You made the decision to keep him, and it was your decision to make. I was disappointed that you were going to lose out on your childhood. However, I was proud that you were adult enough to take on the responsibility. I am proud that despite everything that happened, you became the best detective I've ever known."


	26. Coming Clean

"How do you feel about staying here, and catching up, for a while?" Jane asks Michael, as they sit in Maura's living room, looking through old picture albums.

"I don't mind at all. I'm enjoying looking through all of this stuff," he admits.

"I have something that I need to take care of," Jane reveals.

"Go, we're fine here," Angela insists.

"Ok," Jane nods, in agreement.

* * *

She finds Korsak at his desk. He's collecting his stuff, getting ready to call it a night.

"Jane I didn't know you were coming back, tonight."

"There was some business I needed to take care of."

"Where have you been all day?" he inquires.

"There was some other business I had to take care of."

"Jane?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"Are you ok?"

"I will be."

"What's going on? You've been acting very odd the last couple of days."

"Can I buy you dinner?"

"Are you trying to wine, and dine me?" he jokes.

"Dinner is a more appropriate setting to talk," she points out.

"You can buy my dinner, if you tell me what's going on."

"I will tell you what is going on, at dinner."

"Ok," he nods, in agreement.

They sit at The Dirty Robber, in Jane's usual booth. The waitress takes their orders, and brings their drinks. Vince takes a sip of his. He looks up, and finds Jane swirling the ice in her water, with her straw. He instantly picks up on her nervous energy, and the petrified look on her face.

"Jane? You ok?"

"Yeah," she nods.

"You're as white as a sheet. What's going on?"

"Vince, there is something that I need to tell you," she reveals.

"You're after my job," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

"It is something serious."

"Ok," he nods, "What's going on?"

"I want to explain my behavior, during this last case."

"You're general weirdness, and strong desire to take that woman out in the woods, and shoot her."

"That wouldn't be cruel enough," Jane responds.

"I could see you were thinking of awful things to do to her. Why? Usually your focus is on how you can catch someone, and throw them away, for a very long time."

"I hate people who steal children, worse than I hate people who murder other people."

"Why is that?"

"When someone is murdered, most of the time we find them. And even though they are never coming back, at least their family has closure. They know that they aren't coming back. When a child is taken, we don't always find them. Their families don't know if they're dead, or alive. They don't know if they are ever coming back. There is no closure."

"I get that, but you seem to have some personal reason. Did you lose someone close to you? A childhood friend?"

"You were my partner, for a lot of years. There are a lot of things that you know about me, that most people don't. You have seen me on some of the worst days in my life. I trust you with my life. Still, there are some things that you don't know about me. There are some things that I don't share with anyone."

"Ok?"

"After this last case, I feel that I have no choice. I have to tell you. I have to tell everyone. I can't pretend that it didn't happen."

"What?"

"You're right, I lost someone close to me."

"A childhood friend?"

"No," she shakes her head, "closer than that. He was taken from me, and I didn't think I would ever see him again."

"Why this case, in particular?"

"Michael," she mutters, on the verge of tears. She finds herself having a very difficult time maintaining her composure.

"Michael? That was the name of the person you lost? Like the oldest son of our perp?"

"Right," she nods, blinking away tears.

"Jane, what is it? What happened, that is making you so upset?"

"I should have told you, a long time ago," she answers.

"It has to do with Michael?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"Someone took Michael from you?"

"It's why I became a cop."

"Who was Michael?"

She swallows hard, "The Michael that we met..." she trails off.

"He reminds you of the Michael who was taken from you."

She shakes her head, "He is the Michael that was taken from me."

"What?!"

"He is my Michael."

"Your Michael? Who was he, to you?"

She doesn't answer, instead she looks away. She stares at the coaster under her drink.

"He's how old, eighteen?"

"Yes."

"He was a kid that you babysat?" he guesses.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Then who was he?"

"He's my son," she reveals.

"Your what?!"

"My son."

"Your son? You have a son?"

"Yes."

"So you were..."

She fills in the blanks, "I was seventeen."

"You had a baby, at seventeen?"

"He was kidnapped before he was a week old. I never told anyone, not until this case."

"So that kid, he's your son? Are you sure?"

"Maura confirmed, with DNA."


	27. Doubt

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shakes her head, "It's not something I ever talk about, with anyone."

"No one knew about him?"

"My grandmother, she's dead. My mother knew too."

"And your father?"

"We never told him."

"And Michael's father?"

"He knew that I was pregnant, but he was young, and self-absorbed. He didn't care. He was never going to be a part of his life."

"Were you going to keep him? I can't imagine that is a road that any seventeen year old wants to take."

"The plan was for me to go to my grandmother's for the summer, have the baby, and give him up for adoption. When I saw him, I knew that I couldn't do that. I knew that it wasn't going to be easy. I didn't even know if I was ready to be anyone's parent, but I knew I wanted him."

"She took him?"

"I never gave up hope that he was still out there," she trails off.

"But?"

"As a cop, I knew the statistics. I knew the chances of finding him alive, or even at all were slim to none."

"But he's alive. Does he know?"

"Yeah," she nods, in confirmation.

"So now what are you going to do?"

She shrugs, "Try to make up for lost time, I guess."

"I can understand why you wanted to kill her. She took his entire childhood away from you."

"I just wish I had found him sooner. He has been in the same city, and I..." she pauses.

"You couldn't have known."

* * *

She returns to Maura's after her meeting with Korsak. She finds Michael, and her mother sitting on Maura's couch going through old pictures. Jane takes a seat on the couch, next to them. She stares at the album in confusion. She looks at her mother.

"Where did those come from?" she turns to her son, "Did you have these?"

He shakes his head. She looks at the pictures, and then her focus returns to her mother.

"Where did you get those?"

"I found the camera, when I was packing you up to come home, from your grandmother's. It was in a box, for over a year, before I even thought about what might be on it."

Jane shakes her head in disbelief, "You had these all along?"

"I developed them, and put them in an album. I put them back in a box in the attic, in case he ever came home."

"Why didn't you give them to me?"

"You had been through enough."

"I had been through enough? My baby was stolen from me, and you didn't think that I wanted to have the pictures that I took before that?"

"You had his picture from the hospital."

"Ma, that is not the point. I thought that she took that roll of film with her. I can't believe you."

"Jane I was just trying to protect you."

"You were a little bit too late."

"Maybe I should go in the other room, so that the two of you can have this conversation in private," Michael suggests.

"You don't have to go anywhere," Jane tells him.

"Jane what is it that you want me to say, exactly?"

"You were wrong."

"I was wrong, and I am sorry for that."

"Sorry? Ma that isn't enough."

"Jane this wasn't my fault. I didn't take him from you."

She shakes her head, "If you hadn't shipped me off to my grandmother's because you were afraid how having a pregnant teenager might make you look as a parent, no one would have ever taken him," her voice grows louder.

"Jane it wasn't my fault. You have got to stop blaming me for this. It's done, and over, we need to move on."

"That is easy for you to say."

"Why are you so angry at me?" Angela questions.

"Just once I wanted you to tell me that it was going to be ok. Just once I wanted to hear that you actually believe in me."

Angela furrows her brow, "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't think that I was even remotely capable of taking care of him. You had zero faith in me."

Angela shakes her head, "I am your mother, I know who you are, and what you are capable of. My heart broke for you, when I found out what happened,"

Jane cuts her off, "But you were relieved, weren't you?"

"Yes Jane, I was a little bit relieved. You were seventeen years old. You had no idea who you were yet. You had no way to take care of him. You had a year of school left, and I was going to be damned if you quit so you could take care of a baby. I didn't want you to throw your whole life away, for a stupid decision that you made in a split second."

"I can't believe that you would say that."

"Jane you are an amazing person. You are one of the strongest people that I know. You are right though, I didn't think that you could take care of a baby at seventeen. I don't think anyone should have to. Do you ever wonder how your life would have turned out differently if you had to raise him? How would you have finished school? Would you have been able to go to the police academy? What kind of life could you have given him?"

Jane doesn't say anything. Michael interjects. He touches Jane's arm.

"I think we should go."

* * *

She nods, in agreement vacating the couch. She doesn't say anything, as he follows her to the car. They climb inside, and she turns on the engine. He waits for her to back out the drive, but the car doesn't move. She stares at the dashboard, and then she turns, and looks at him.

"I am sorry for that. You shouldn't have seen that."

"It's ok," he insists.

"No," she shakes her head, "It's not."

"I know that you're angry at her. I can see you blame her, but it wasn't her fault."

"I know that."

"And she had some points."

"Don't take her side," Jane warns.

"I'm not, I am just trying to be rational, here. A seventeen year old should not have to have that kind of responsibility."

She looks him dead in the eyes, "Michael you have to understand that she's right, you weren't planned. It was an accident..."

He cuts her off, "You are honestly trying to tell me that at seventeen you didn't think getting pregnant with me was a mistake?"

"Maybe for a split second."

"I wished my entire childhood that I would find you. All I ever wanted was to have you back, but if you had found me, all of those years ago, would you have been ready? I don't doubt that you wanted me, but I don't think you were prepared. Think of all the good you have done. You couldn't have been able to do that, if you were raising a kid."


	28. Lying To Yourself

"I would have given up anything for you."

"But you shouldn't have to."

"I wouldn't have taken it back," she reveals.

He raises an eyebrow, "You wouldn't have taken any of it back?"

"No, because then you wouldn't be here."

"It's late, I should get home. I have studying to do."

"Ok," she nods, putting the car into gear.

* * *

She wakes up, exhausted, and angry. She rolls towards her ringing phone. It sits on the nightstand, next to her bed. Her eyes stay closed as she struggles to find it. Finally she does. She pulls it to her ear.

"Rizzoli," she answers.

"We should talk."

"About what, Maura?"

"Just come down to the morgue."

"It's Sunday. I am off. Why are you there?"

"I was doing some work."

"For a case?"

"Just come down here, please."

"Fine," she agrees.

* * *

An hour later she finds herself in Maura's office. Maura looks up, from her computer. Jane closes the door behind her, instinctively knowing that Maura has something of great importance to talk to her about.

"What is going on?" Jane questions.

"Have a seat," Maura points to the chair across the desk from her.

Jane reluctantly takes her seat.

"How much of the truth have you been telling?" Maura wonders.

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you even tell your mother the truth?"

"About what?"

"Jane I know."

"You know, what?"

"It makes sense to me now."

"Maura I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Why didn't you tell your mother that you were pregnant as soon as you found out?"

"I was a teenager, I didn't have the best judgment. I was scared to tell her. I didn't know how she would react."

"That's it?"

"Why are you asking me all of these questions?"

"Because I don't believe you."

"What are you accusing me of, here, Maura?"

"You haven't been honest with me."

"About what?"

"I don't think that you've ever been honest with anyone about it, have you?"

Jane shakes her head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Maura argues, "You don't have to lie about it."

"About what?"

"Were you relieved that..."

She looks Maura in the eyes, "I was not relieved that someone stole my baby from me. Why would anyone be?"

"You know exactly why."

"Maura you are not very good at being the bad cop. If you have something on your mind then you should just spit it out."

"I want to know why you became a cop."

"I already told you that."

"I want to know the real reason."

"My newborn son was stolen out of the same room that I was in. He was in a basinet sleeping less than ten feet away from me. If that isn't motivation enough, then I don't know that is."

"You're right, that is enough motivation, but it isn't why you became a cop, is it?"

"I don't know what you think you know, but that is why I became a cop."

"I don't believe me."

"Maura you are supposed to be my best friend. Why wouldn't you believe me?"

"Because it isn't the truth."

"You're being kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"You're right," she nods, "Why don't you just tell me the truth, instead of me interrogating you?"

"You're not doing a very good job by the way," Jane points out.

"I don't think that you can be successfully interrogated, can you?"

"I have yet to be," Jane reveals.

"I don't want your job. I am not a detective, and you're not a criminal. I don't want to confront you with all of the evidence, and have you confess."

"What do you want?"

"I'm your best friend. If you can't trust me you can't trust anyone."

"Maura I trust you. You should know that."

"Then trust me enough to tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"Everything."

Jane shakes her head, "Maura," she warns.

"Have you ever told anyone?"

Jane doesn't say anything.

"I didn't think so. Jane, just tell me, it's ok."

"It's not ok," Jane argues.

"You can tell me," Maura insists.

"Maura I am not going to have this conversation with you," Jane tells her.

"You should have it with someone," Maura points out.

"Not now."

"Have you ever had it with anyone?"

"I just told you that I haven't."

"Maybe it's time."

"No," she shakes her head, "It's not time. It isn't something that ever needs to be shared."

"Jane you can't be honest with me, and I am your best friend. It makes me wonder if you've ever even been honest with yourself."


	29. Waking Up To A Nightmare

Jane grits her teeth. The vein in her forehead pulsates. She breaks eye contact, and stares at the floor. Maura knows that she isn't going to get Jane to reveal the truth. She looks at her computer screen, and then she looks at Jane.

"You should have told me. You should have told your mother," Maura informs her.

"Told her what? There was nothing to tell."

"I was curious. I know that I crossed a line, but..."

Jane cuts her off, "You always cross the line. You always put your nose where it doesn't belong."

"I ran Michael's DNA."

"I know that."

"After I ran it against yours, something just didn't sit right with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"Maura..."

"I found another DNA match."

Jane doesn't say anything.

"I was able to determine paternity."

Jane continues to avoid eye contact. She remains silent.

"He isn't who I thought he was."

"Is anyone, ever?"

"He is a criminal," Maura adds.

"I know."

"I thought back to what you had told me, and suddenly some of it made very little sense. At the same time, the parts that didn't make sense to me before, became obvious to me."

"Maura I don't want to talk about this."

Maura looks at her best friend, empathetically, "You have kept it a secret long enough, don't you think? Your son is eighteen years old. That is a long time to keep a secret like this. You have kept your secret long enough, Jane. It is time to face it."

"Time to face it? I faced it decades ago."

"No, you didn't," Maura shakes her head, "You pretended like it never happened."

"Maura..."

"Was any of what you said about him true?"

"He was a football player."

"And the rest?"

"No," Jane admits.

"I think that you need to talk to your mother."

"Why? She doesn't need to know. No one needs to know. It happened in the past. I don't need to relive the past."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Michael doesn't need to know," she argues, knowing what Maura is thinking, "No one needs to know."

"Don't you think that he deserves to know the truth?"

"He has enough truth in his life. Besides, nobody deserves to know that."

"Look, if you don't want to talk to me about this, that is fine. I think you need to talk to your mother though. It is something that needs to be resolved."

"Nothing needs to be resolved," Jane answers.

"You should tell her."

* * *

She enters Maura's house, and finds her mother in the kitchen. Maura is still at work, catching up on paperwork. Jane enters the kitchen, and sits a box on the counter of the island. Angela turns around, as she finishes dishes, and looks at Jane. Jane takes a seat on a barstool, and waits, patiently.

"Jane, what are you doing here? Dinner isn't for hours."

"I wanted to talk to you."

Angela places the final dish in the drying rack, and turns towards her daughter.

"I thought that you would bring Michael so he could meet everyone."

"He has a project that he needs to finish for school. I told him that next week would probably be better, anyway."

Angela picks up on Jane's facial expression. "Jane what is on your mind?"

"You should have a seat," Jane points to the stool next to her.

"And what's with the box?"

"We should talk," she admits.

"Look, I am sorry for the things that I said the other night. I was out of line. You could have done anything you set your mind to. I knew that. I was just afraid that..."

Jane cuts her off, "Don't worry about it. I'm not here about that."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I need you to know the truth."

"About what?"

"A lot of things."

"Ok," Angela nods in agreement.

Jane swallows hard, trying to find the right place to start. Angela waits, patiently.

"I know that you were blow away, when I came to you, and told you that I was pregnant."

"Out of all of the girls in the neighborhood, and at church, you were the last one I expected to hear that from. Maybe I had my blinders on. You were a teenager, and I should have paid more attention. I know how badly I reacted, but I had never imagined hearing something like that from you. You were a good kid. Those sorts of things weren't supposed to happen to my daughter. You were too smart."

"I waited too long to tell you, I know that."

"You should have told me sooner," Angela agrees.

"I wasn't entirely honest about why," Jane admits.

"What do you mean?"

"I was scared about how you would react, but that wasn't it. There were other reasons."

"What other reasons?"

"I was in denial. I didn't want to believe that it was even possible. I didn't want to consider the thought that I could be pregnant."

"I know it must have been scary. I only wish that you had been able to tell me sooner, and I had been more understanding."

"I wish a lot of things."

"So what were the other reasons?"

"I was in shock. I didn't want to believe it."

"You were so young."

"After I found out it took me a long time to admit to myself that it was true. It took me a long time to accept the fact that I was pregnant. Even after I did, I just kept hoping that it would go away. I kept praying that I would wake up one day, and none of would have ever happened."


	30. Didn't Matter

"My boyfriend at the time was not responsible for getting me pregnant. He knew that, that is why he bailed. No one would want to stick around to help with a kid that wasn't theirs, especially when he was just a kid himself." Angela furrows her brow, and studies her daughter's facial expression closely. Jane breaks eye contact. Angela's eyes drift from her daughter's face to the box in front of her.

"Jane what are you talking about?"

Jane reaches for the box. She pulls it towards her, and lifts off the lid. She reaches inside, and pulls out a file folder. She swallows hard, and places it on the counter, in front of her mother. Angela just looks at the closed case file. She arches her brow, "What does this have to do with anything?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's not an easy read," Jane admits.

Angela shakes her head, not understanding. "Why do you want me to read it?"

"Just read it, and you'll understand," Jane pushes her stool out.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside. I've read it more times than I can count," she says on the verge of tears. She leaves the room. In fact she leaves the house. She goes outside, and sits on the ledge of the entry way.

Angela opens the file, and begins to read. The first thing she reads is the date at the top of the page. _10/20/1992_. She stops there, and closes the folder. She leaves the kitchen, and goes outside. She finds Jane sitting on the step, outside of the door.

"Jane come back inside."

"You haven't have the chance to read it."

"I don't want to read it. I want you to tell me."

Jane gets up, off the step, and follows her mother inside. She returns to the kitchen. She reaches for the file. Her mother takes a seat.

"How far did you get?" Jane questions.

"To the date."

Jane doesn't say anything in response.

"Jane tell me what happened. Just tell me the truth. What happened on October twentieth, nineteen ninety-two?"

"I was supposed to be staying over at a friend's house so that we could work on our science project. We got done early, so we went to her friend's house. There were maybe a dozen people there. It wasn't really a party. No one was drinking, we were all there just having a good time."

"What happened?"

* * *

_October 20th, 1992-_

_Her boyfriend smiles at her. He approaches her with a group of his friends._

_"We're going to go get pizza do you want to come?"_

_She raises an eyebrow. "It takes five of you to do that?"_

_"Come on," he begs._

_"I'll be fine until you get back."_

_"Ok," he nods, in agreement. _

_Five of them leave, to go get pizza. Her friend, Lisa comes up to her._

_"Julie's brother did a project similar to ours a couple of years ago. She showed it to me. Ours isn't quite as good. You should go take a look at it, and see if you think we can make some modifications to ours so that we can get an A."_

_"Why do I have to look at it?" she questions._

_"Because you are the one who understands the project," she points._

_"Remind me again why I picked you as my lab partner?"_

_"Because I am great at writing lab reports."_

_"I don't know how considering you have no idea how to do any of the labs."_

_Lisa shrugs, "I don't know. We're going to go outside, and look at Julie's new car. You should go talk to Justin, and then we'll go for a spin, when the guys get back with the pizza."_

_"Fine," Jane agrees. She stomps up the stairs, unable to believe everyone else is having a good time, while she has to discuss a science project. She rolls her eyes, as she reaches the top of the stairs. She knocks on the door to her right. He pulls it open._

_"You came up to see my science project?"_

_"Yeah," she nods._

_"Come in."_

_She steps into the room, and he closes the door behind her. She looks around the room, trying to locate his project. _

_"Where is it?"_

_Before he can answer she feels something hitting her in the back of the head. _

_She returns to consciousness after a few moments have passed. She opens her eyes, and she's laying on his bed. He's holding her down. _

_"What are you doing?"_

_He presses his hand over her mouth, to keep her from screaming. She feels woozy, and loses consciousness. She comes in and out of consciousness for the next several minutes. The next time she comes to she's in the back of the car. She looks at the driver, and immediately recognizes her boyfriend in the driver's seat. She feels groggy, and confused._

_"What happened? Where are we going?"_

_"I'm taking you to the hospital," he reveals. _

_Hours later, a police officer comes into her room. As the officer asks her questions she is able to piece together what has happened. He questions her for over an hour, and then leaves her to rest. _

_Early the next morning, they release her, so that she can make it to school. She heads into the bathroom to get dressed. She looks at herself in the mirror. Her face looks fine, despite the fact that her head is throbbing. She slips off her hospital gown, and begins to dress. She quickly realizes that she is covered in bruises. Luckily her clothing covers all of the bruises. _

* * *

Angela stares at her, in disbelief. Jane has left out a lot of details. Angela shakes her head. "Jane what are you telling me?"

"I didn't get pregnant because I was irresponsible, and careless one night, with my boyfriend. I never had sex with him. I never had sex with anyone, before," she trails off.

Angela looks at the file in front of her.

"And this."

"It's a copy of the case file."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I? I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. I went into a room, alone, when I knew I shouldn't have. He was a nineteen year old linebacker. I was scared to death that if I told anyone he would hurt me."

"You should have told me. You never should have gone through that alone. Jane when you got to the hospital you should have called me. Why didn't they call me?"

"I asked them not to. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want anyone to know."

"That is why it took so long for you to tell me?"

"One morning I woke up to my worst nightmare. I just kept thinking that somehow it would all go away. I didn't know what to do," the tears start to fall.

"Why did you want to keep him?"

"When I saw him none of it mattered. All I saw was this sweet innocent baby. All I saw was _my_ baby."


	31. Unsaid

He looks over at her. She sits in silence, as she picks at her hamburger. He sits across the table from her, at lunch. He can see something isn't quite right.

"Jane?"

She looks up at him, "Yeah?"

"Is there something bothering you?"

"No. Why would there be?"

"You've barely said two words all day," he points out.

"I'm sorry. Michael if you have other things to do don't let me hold you up."

"I wanted to hang out with you today. I would feel better if you would just tell me what's going on."

"It isn't important," she insists.

"You know, since the day I saw you at my house, I knew there was something you weren't telling me. I could tell from the look in your eyes that there was something you were keeping from me. Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"I told you, it isn't important."

"Please," he implores.

"It is important, but it isn't something that you want, or need to hear," she reveals.

"Tell me anyway. I am an adult. I think that I can handle it."

She shakes her head, "It is better that you don't know."

"Know what?"

"It changes things, and nothing needs to change. I finally found you, and I don't want anything to change."

"What would change?"

She shrugs, "Probably everything."

"Why?"

"I promise you, it is better if you don't know. Obviously I have missed a lot of really important moments in your life. I haven't been there for you. All I can do is protect you, now."

"Those moments were stolen from you."

"I don't want you to ever doubt that I loved you from the second that I laid eyes on you."

"I never have. Why would I start, now?"

"You won't."

"So you're going to tell what this secret you have been hiding is?"

"No."

"Not now?"

"Not ever," she answers.

"You have to tell me at some point," he argues.

"I thought we were going to go play basketball."

"It can wait," he insists.

"I am not telling you. It just doesn't matter."

"Please," he begs.

"I will take it to my grave with me."

"How bad can it be?" he wonders.

"Just finish your burger."

"It must be pretty bad," he realizes.

"What makes you say that?"

"You've barely touched your food."

"I'm not very hungry."

"Exactly."

"We should get going. It is supposed to rain later."

"We can play at my gym. Cool your jets."

"We should go," she tells him.

"Please just tell me. My entire life up until very recently was based solely on lies. She lied to me every single day of my life. I found you, and I have tried to leave that all in the past. Here you are, and I was really hoping for someone to be honest with me. Which, I honestly thought that you would be. Maybe I misjudged you."

"You didn't misjudge me."

"Why won't you tell me, then?"

"Michael there are some things that mothers shouldn't tell their children. There are some things that just don't ever need to be revealed."

"I want to know. I can handle whatever it is."

"I disagree."

"I can handle it. Just tell me."

She furrows her brow, "The things that I have told you about your father aren't entirely true."

"Which part?"

"None of it is really true. He isn't who I said he was."

"Why would lie about something like that? I don't have an interest in seeking him out, anyway."

"That isn't what I am afraid of."

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

"Because it is difficult to comprehend."

"Try me."

"Your father wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't someone that I was involved with at all."

He shakes his head, "I don't understand. If that is true how am I here, at all?"

She breaks eye contact. She stares at the surface of the table. She doesn't respond, immediately.

"Jane?"

"It's complicated."

"So simplify it. I didn't really picture you as someone who would have hooked up with some random guy at that age."

"I wasn't, I didn't."

He furrows his brow, "What are you saying, here?"

"I never would have done that. I wasn't even having sex at all," she reveals

"So," he swallows hard, hoping that she will look at him, but she refuses.

"Just tell me the truth," he begs.

"I never would have considered that I would get pregnant. I was so young, and I wasn't prepared for any of what happened."

"What did happen?"

She looks up at him. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears from falling, even though her eyes are nearly filled to the brim with them.

"I didn't want to tell you, because I was afraid you would question the way that I felt about you."

"Just say it."

She swallows hard, "I was raped."

"And I am the product of that rape?"

She nods in confirmation.

"Oh."

"You can see why I wouldn't want to tell you that. Nobody wants to hear something like that. Nobody needs to know that. Some things are better left unsaid."


	32. Starting Now

"I don't understand," he admits.

"Which part of it?"

"Why did you choose to have me?"

"Honestly, by the time I admitted to myself what was really happening it was too late for me to do anything."

"And once you had me, why would you want to keep me?"

"The entire time I was pregnant I felt conflicted. I didn't want to talk about what happened. I couldn't admit what happened to anyone. I was afraid that because I was so young, and how you were conceived that I couldn't love you. Then I started to feel you move, and I wondered how I couldn't love my own baby," she swallows hard as the tears start to fall.

"Why did you want to keep me?"

"It was never your fault. I knew none of it was your fault. I was afraid that when I saw you all I would be able to do was think about what happened."

"That is understandable."

"But I didn't see him. All I saw was you. You were born, and I just saw this sweet, innocent, little boy. The second that I laid eyes on you I knew that it didn't matter how you got here. I knew that I couldn't help but love you."

"You were a kid. Why would you even consider keeping me? You were too young to be saddled with that kind of responsibility. Your mother was probably right. How could you be ready for that."

"I wasn't ready, and I knew that. I knew that all along. I also knew that if anyone could prepare me, or teach me it would be my mother."

"I just don't even know what to say."

"When I looked at you for the first time all I saw was my baby. You were mine, no matter what. I could see in your eyes that you were already so calm, and peaceful."

"You weren't afraid that I would be like him?"

"No."

"I just don't understand why you wanted me."

"One day you will have a child, and you'll understand. From the moment you lay eyes on your baby everything changes. Suddenly it doesn't matter what has happened in the past. It doesn't matter how that baby got there. All you know is that you never could have imagined loving someone so much, that you just met."

"So what happened to him?" Michael queries.

"He ended up in prison."

"For what he did to you?"

She shakes her head, "For what he did to someone else."

"You never told anyone the truth?"

"Not then."

"Wouldn't that have been easier? Your mother wouldn't have thought that you had done something wrong. She..." he begins.

She cuts him off, "She never would have understood. She never would have let me keep you. She can be very narrow minded, sometimes."

"Was it your first time?"

She nods.

"I'm sorry."

"Michael you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I was born."

"I would never blame you for that. You have no blame here."

"Do you ever wish that you could go back, and change it all?"

"No," she answers without missing a beat.

"You would have missed out on a lot of heartache."

"But then I wouldn't have you."

"You just now got me back," he reminds her.

"If that hadn't happened I never would have become a cop."

"You're a good cop, too."

"I don't do it for me," she admits.

"I know that."

"I wouldn't take any of it back. If I did I wouldn't be the person that I am today."

"Who would you be?" he wonders.

"Probably a stay at home housewife with about five kids, and Xanax prescription."

"What makes you say that?"

"That describes ninety percent of the girls in the neighborhood I grew up in."

"You have never wanted to settle down, get married, and have some kids?"

"I have never cared for settling."

"What if the right guy came around?" he quizzes.

She smiles, "Then it wouldn't be settling."

"True."

"So what are your plans for your future?"

"Finish school, and find a nice girl to settle down with, get married, and have a family."

"But don't ever settle."

"You're still single at your age," he reminds her.

"I don't regret that. I would rather be happy and single, than settled, and miserable."

"When am I going to get to meet the rest of your family?"

"You mean the rest of your family?" she replies.

"Yeah," he nods.

"Soon."

"How soon?"

The bell above the entrance of the bar jingles. She looks up, and finds Frankie, and Tommy coming her way. She motions for them to join her.

"How about now?" she answers.

Michael scoots over, as they approach. Frankie takes a seat next to Jane. Tommy takes a seat next to Michael. Tommy doesn't remain quiet for long. He looks at the kid sitting next to him.

"You want to tell us who your date is, Jane? Don't you think he's a little bit young for you?" Tommy questions.

"Yeah Jane, he looks barely legal," Frankie adds, "I think you need to raise your standards a little."

"He is a very nice young man," Jane insists.

"I bet he has a name like Jake, or Jared, or Connor," Tommy teases.

Michael extends a hand, "My name is Michael, it's nice to meet you."

"Tommy," he answers.

"Michael, I'm Frankie," Frankie offers his hand.

Tommy looks at his sister, and then over at the teenager sitting next to him. "So Michael how old are you?"

"Eighteen."

Frankie furrows his brow, and looks at Jane, "Really? You picked up an eighteen year old?"

"No I am not on a date," Jane insists.

"Then why are you hanging around with an eighteen year old kid? Where did you meet him?"

"When he was coming out of my uterus," she answers.

Tommy looks at her completely dumbfounded, "Ha, ha. Jane don't play. That isn't a funny joke."

"He's my son," Jane adds.


	33. Bloodline

Tommy shakes his head, "Jane that isn't funny."

Frankie scrutinizes his sister's face. He looks over at Michael, and studies him for a moment. Then he turns to Tommy, "Tommy I don't think that she's joking."

"You can't have an eighteen year old kid," Tommy argues.

"I do."

"Since when? Where did he come from? Why are we just now finding out about him?" Tommy queries.

"Since eighteen years ago," she answers.

Frankie looks at her, but remains silent. Tommy continues, "I think that I would have remembered you being pregnant."

"I assure you that I was," she insists.

"Why didn't I know?" Tommy wonders.

"I didn't want you to. Pop didn't even know," Jane reveals.

"Who did know?" Tommy follows up.

"Ma knew, but I didn't tell her until I was pretty far along. And grandma knew."

Frankie's eyes widen, "The summer you spent with grandma? You were pregnant?"

"He was born while I was there," she reveals.

"Why is this the first time we are meeting him? You gave him up for adoption?" Tommy guesses.

"Not exactly," Jane admits.

"He wasn't in your custody, so where was he?" Tommy drills her.

"Frankie do you remember that case we worked on where the woman had kidnapped several children?"

"Yeah," Frankie nods.

Jane swallows hard, "She started eighteen years ago."

Michael continues the story, "I was taken when I was just a couple of days old."

Tommy looks over at his sister, in disbelief, "Are you serious right now?"

She simply nods.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Frankie questions.

"Why would I? He wasn't with me. I couldn't even be sure he was even still alive."

"Why didn't you tell us, then?" Frankie clarifies.

"You were both too young to understand, especially when I came home without a baby."

"Were you planning on keeping him?" Tommy inquires.

"Ma pretty much told me that wasn't an option," she answers.

"But what did you want?" Tommy follows up.

"I was so young that I didn't know what I wanted. When I saw him for the first time ,that is when I knew that I wanted to keep him."

"You were with grandma, what did she say?" Frankie queries.

"Basically she told me that it was my choice," Jane reveals.

Michael sits at the table in silence, just listening to the conversation. Frankie looks over at him. As he studies the young man in silence, he can see the resemblance to Jane that he missed before.

"So did you know?" Frankie directs at Michael.

Michael nods, "I always knew that something wasn't right. Even as a very young child I had a sense that I didn't belong. I was pretty young when I realized that the reason I felt like I didn't belong was because I didn't. I didn't belong to her."

"Did you know what she was doing?" Frankie probes.

"I knew for a long time," Michael admits.

"So then you had a pretty messed up childhood," Tommy points out.

"In some ways yeah. I mean the woman who raised me abducted me, and several other kids. That part was messed up. She and I didn't always get along, but it was mostly normal. We always had a nice house, and I went to good schools. She was never abusive, or anything like that. We would argue, but what kid doesn't argue with their parents? She did her best to make it a normal childhood. She always reminded me that she did want me, whether or not I wanted her," Michael explains.

Frankie furrows his brow, and turns to his sister, "Does Ma know about this?"

"I already told you she knew that I was pregnant."

Frankie shakes his head, "No, does she know that you found him?"

Jane nods in confirmation, "She has already met him."

"And Maura?" Tommy adds.

"Yes."

"And I am guessing Frost, too?"

Jane doesn't say anything.

Frankie continues, "So you basically told everyone, before you told us?"

"The two of you have a tendency to be immature sometimes," she explains.

Tommy ignores Jane's comment, and turns to Michael, "So did you ever think that you would find her?"

He shrugs, "I hoped that I would. I knew who she was for a long time."

Frankie furrows his brow, "What do you mean you knew who she was?"

"I saw her picture in the newspaper when I was younger. From the moment that I saw it, I knew it was her."

"How?" Frankie cocks an eyebrow.

"It's something inexplicable."

"Jane did you know, when you saw him?" Tommy wonders.

Jane just nods.

Tommy changes the subject, "So what teams do you root for?"

"The Celtics," Michael says without a second thought.

A smile crawls across Frankie's face, "You know now we're not an odd number. We can play a little two on two now.""Jane you should pay your tab," Tommy suggests.

"You aren't even going to ask him if he wants to play?" Jane quizzes.

Frankie, and Tommy both look at Michael. Tommy answers, "He's a Rizzoli of course he wants to play."

Jane makes eye contact with Michael, "What do you think?"

"I think that we are going to make them regret this," he smirks.

"You think?" she questions, "I know it. They haven't seen you play."

"We can hold our own," Frankie insists.

* * *

Jane pays the bill, and they leave. They find their way to a park with a couple of basketball hoops. Tommy just happens to have a basketball rolling around in the trunk of his car. After fifteen minutes of playing Frankie, and Tommy are both laying on the ground. To demonstrate his sportsmanship Michael offers Tommy a hand. He helps pull him off the ground. Tommy looks at him, drenched in sweat. He shakes his head.

"You play like a girl," Tommy comments.

Michael looks over at Jane, "If you are talking about that girl, I am completely ok with that."

Frankie finds his way to his feet, too. He looks at them, and shakes his head.

"How is it that the two of you have been apart nearly his entire life, and you can be so much alike?"

Jane looks over at her son, "Good genes, I guess."


End file.
